


Trust I seek (and I find in you)

by assassi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (or not), BAMF Stiles, Denial, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Family, M/M, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:43:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassi/pseuds/assassi
Summary: “Stiles. Derek found a mate.”Huh?“Huh?”Deaton’s eyes stared imploringly. Like he was waiting for Stiles to catch up.“Oooooh, no, no, no! Nope. No can do.”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A.N. So this is my second take on my favorite TW couple. I wanted it to include a heat and a rut as (well as other) intimate moments shared between mates. There are smut scenes but they are not in detail and they are not the main focus. The focus is what they indicate and it’s just what the title says – trust. The title itself is from a great song that you should all know: Metallica’s Nothing else matters.  
> Give it a chance and let me know what you think :)  
> It's already finished but since I’ve been writing this for a while let me know if you see any mistakes!

The forest was dark and quiet to human ears. For Derek, it was full of life, full of noise, a living, breathing being and he inhaled the smells of rotten leaves, fresh grass and small prey. Running in the forest used to help. It used to soothe him. It didn’t anymore. Every bone in his body ached. His paws hurt. He couldn’t enjoy the hunt anymore. He couldn’t enjoy anything anymore…

Human food was tasteless. Prey didn’t bring his wolf any satisfaction. He was starving and yet nothing sated his hunger. He was thirsty and yet no water and no alcohol made his dry throat ache any less. His body felt beaten even after hours of laying aimlessly, curled in his full wolf form, or as a human in his hotel room bed. There was no restful sleep. There was no sleep at all.

He shifted back, right in the middle of this unknown forest, collapsing on the ground in a heap of despair. He was so close to losing it. He was literally, already breaking apart and it was a matter of time before he lost the battle.

He knew what he had to do to save himself from a painful demise. His wolf was constantly nudging him in that direction. But it was too egoistical, even for Derek. He couldn’t do that to _him_.

 _What if_ he _**wants** to? _

Derek shook his head. Why would _he_? No sane person would condemn themselves to a life where they’re bound to a wolf, and one as fucked up as Derek.

 _You can’t know that_ , a voice in his head, painfully sounding like Laura, said. **_And_** _your boy could hardly be called sane._

 _He’s not my boy_ , Derek argued with himself and Laura’s imaginary voice in his head.

 _He could be_.

Derek sighed. He knew what he had to do. And to honor Laura and every other Hale who had lost their life, he ought to at least try.

After all, no one escaped Beacon Hills.

Or Stiles Stilinski.


	2. Back

A long time ago (in a galaxy far, far away), Stiles Stilinski used to have a normal life. He thought he could remember that time – he was young and naïve and believed that were-creatures did not exist out of comic books and movies.

And then he had to chain his best friend on a full moon and escape some very un-human fangs. And accept that yes, this was his life now.

Escaping from fangs and threats of his throat being torn with the aforementioned teeth suddenly became Stiles’ everyday life. His first girlfriend was a werecoyote and his best friend was a werewolf, because remember that girlfriend? Yeah, so, her werewolf dad kind of went crazy and bit his best buddy. His other best friend was a banshee because remember the crazy dad? Yep. His best bud’s girlfriend was a kitsune, his dad’s deputy was _something_ , everyone around him was _something_.

He _used to be_ something. Something powerful and wild and ugly.

He was now… better.

Only he wasn’t, not really. No, he was better compared to being possessed, but he…

He was not happy.

Because the threat of ripping his throat out with teeth was gone.

And that was idiotic, really. Who missed being threatened? Or thrown into walls? Or smacked into steering wheels?

Stiles, that’s who.

One other thing had changed in Stiles’ life since Scott had been bitten – things happened suddenly, unexpectedly, shockingly.

And one day, just like that, Derek Hale came back, waltzing into his life again.

Only he didn’t waltz, Sourwolf that he was. He attacked. As was the pattern with Hale men.

And just like that Stiles found himself pulled out of his Jeep, thrown back to it (because, patterns) and… sniffed. Derek’s nose was pressed into his throat and the man shamelessly inhaled his scent, gripping his jacket and holding tight onto his… prey?

And that’s when the usual story took a sharp turn as Stiles twisted around and had Derek in an armlock, ignoring the growls and the Eyebrows of Doom.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work again, Sourwolf. You don’t get to come back after years of missing with not even a single text and start fucking manhandle me with not even a single word.”

Growl.

“Growls don’t count. _Speak_ to me. Like _humans_ do.”

He let go of the once towering and intimidating man, allowing Derek to turn back around and glare at him. Again, Stiles was not impressed.

“Seriously, did you expect that you can just trot back up and everyone’s gonna welcome you with their arms wide open and waiting for you?”

Derek’s eyes darkened and a slow toothy smile stretched his lips.

“Not _everyone_ ”, he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And not with their _arms_ wide open.”

Wait, what?

Stiles’ brain short-circuited for a moment because he couldn’t have heard what he thought he had heard or that could not mean what he had thought it had meant. Because…

“Wait, what?”

Derek’s smile faded and he seemed to slowly come down from a daze. His eyes darkened some more, but in a way that didn’t even remotely look like desire; he looked troubled and frustrated, grim and angry and… well, more like himself than he’d been just a minute ago. Stiles found he didn’t like that look. It didn’t make Derek any less sexy (which, no, he would not admit out loud even to Scott), but it did make him look kind of in pain.

As much as he was mad at him, Stiles didn’t want Derek to be in pain. For fuck’s sake, the guy had been through enough shit already. But Stiles was also sick and tired of _Derek’s_ shit _._

“Look, Derek, if you need something, just spill it out.”

“And if I need some _one_?”, the wolf muttered darkly.

Stiles frowned, caught in a rare moment of uncomprehending the whole situation. Before he could say anything though Derek turned around and walked away briskly, to disappear like he had appeared: out of nowhere and back there.

* * *

 

“ _sw is back_ ”

Huh? Scott reread the message from Stiles. Nope, still didn’t make sense.

“ _a new star wars movie_?”

“ _no, dumbass. sourwolfs back_.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he huffed a disbelieving snort.

“What is it?”, Malia asked.

“Derek’s back”, Scott answered distractedly as he read Stiles’ next message.

“ _hes acting weird. weirder than normal. even for sw_.”

Scott frowned, asking if they should consult their usual source of knowledge when it came to _weird_.

“ _deaton_?”

“ _not yet. but keep an eye on tall, dark and snarly_.”

Scott snorted again and threw his phone in the vicinity of his jeans, currently residing on Malia’s floor. He turned back to his girlfriend, grinning.

“Now where were we?”


	3. Changed

Some things never changed. That’s how Derek Hale found himself on Stiles Stilinski’s windowsill. The window itself was open and the curtains moved gently with the wind.

That’s about all that hadn’t changed. Everything else… had.

Stiles, for once, wasn’t the scrawny kid Derek had once left behind. Even back then the brat had started putting some muscle on. Now, four years later, he looked like a fucking underwear model. Derek swallowed dryly, feeling like the lowest pervert as his eyes roamed freely down Stiles’ toned chest and the happiest trail, disappearing into the sheet, covering the man’s groin. The way the material hugged the pale skin left nothing to Derek’s imagination.

Stiles slept naked.

Black ink intertwined in intricate designs on his forearms, combining what looked like ancient runes, Polish and Latin. And when he tossed around in his dream Derek saw that on his back from one shoulder blade to the other was a tattoo of the moon phases.

Stiles sighed softly in his sleep.

The sheet slipped down the curve of his pert ass.

Derek’s wolf howled in his head, clawing from the inside, begging for something, or rather someone he couldn’t have.

Stiles opened his eyes, suddenly alarmed, itching with the feeling of being watched. He turned towards the window. It was empty and only the thin drapes barely moved with the wind of the dawn. He sighed and stood up to start preparing for work.

He didn’t notice the claw marks on his windowsill.

* * *

 

Derek couldn’t really tell what was hotter: Stiles naked or Stiles… in a fucking uniform. Because of course the brat had grown up to be not only sex on legs, but _sex on legs in a cop’s uniform_!

Derek and his animal were both fully aware that they weren’t the only ones appreciating the view. And while Stiles laughed and joked easily with his colleagues, he was openly ogled. And not just by women. Derek couldn’t judge them: the way those pants hugged Stiles’ perfect ass, the utility belt on his trim waist, the shirt that was just a little tight on his shoulders; all that made it hard not to look.

It didn’t mean that Derek wouldn’t rip their throats out. With his teeth.

Stiles waved a goodbye to a teammate and pulled out his smartphone. A slow, sinful smirk played on his lips as he typed.

Derek’s own phone suddenly beeped and he flinched, startled, before pulling it out.

“ _Stalking an officer of the law, Sourwolf?_ ”

His eyes widened and he looked back up. Stiles wasn’t even looking in his direction.

Another text chimed.

“ _Does it turn you on?_ ;)”

There was no point in denying.

“ _Yes_ ”, he answered.

Derek had the satisfaction to see Stiles blush and throw his phone on his desk, running a hand over a suddenly dry mouth.

* * *

 

Dusk was falling over Beacon Hills and everything looked peaceful for once. Of course, for an outsider, the town always looked peaceful. And so did the cemetery.

But Stiles knew better.

He had been afraid once; to come here after dark and by the darkness itself, since he knew the creatures who lived in the dark. For a time, he had been one of those creatures and the darkness was his own mind. It took him some time after the Nogitsune was gone to accept that some of its darkness remained forever imbedded inside him. With acceptance came strength. And he was no longer afraid of the dark.

It wasn’t fear that made him avoid the graveyard for a while.

It was shame. And sorrow. Helplessness and defeat that had him struggling through some of his most severe panic attacks. He had been lost for a while and his dad and his few remaining friends had been really worried and then outright scared. Because there had been times when it wasn’t necessarily substantial that Stiles survives through the hell that was in his own head.

He went to therapy. That’s how he was now able to kneel down and leave the flowers on that particular grave.

“Hello, Allison.”

The cold marble provided no answer. For a while Stiles had been convinced that it would silently judge him for his sins. He had walked a long path and it had taken a lot of time to be able to visit her grave at all. It was never easy. But at least all that remained now was the dull pain from loss and not the crushing guilt that had been so close to killing him as well.

Once, he would probably ask her for guidance; for answers to questions he couldn’t quite form. Now he was strong enough to face his own problems, his own demons. He had fought hard and it still hurt sometimes, but Stiles Stilinski was not the brat, who was scared from the dark. Not anymore.

He cleared his throat and the soft wind carried a barely whispered “bye” before he turned around, back to the cruiser, back to the graveyard shift at the station, back to being Deputy Stilinski.


	4. Wooing, not quite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try to update daily but I have planned a vacation so I will not be posting from Feb1 to Feb4. I'll post tomorrow and then on the 5th. Don't forget to comment if you liked what you've read :)

The alarm went off, making Stiles groan in frustration as he grabbed blindly for his phone, shutting it off. He sighed, burying his face in his pillow for a few more seconds before he stood up slowly. He dragged on his favorite red hoodie and some soft sweatpants and crawled down in the kitchen. He set the timer of the coffee machine, pulled out some strawberries from the fridge and cut them, setting them aside for when he got back. He put his earbuds in and pulled up his favorite playlist. Then he stepped outside and did his usual brief stretching before he took off to the woods.

The morning chill felt nice as he jogged at a slower pace, warming up. There was a slight fog, weaving around the trees as he neared the Preserve. He skipped to one of the faster songs on his playlist and ran faster.

Running wasn’t just his way to vent but also keep himself in good shape, since he wasn’t really a fitness fan. It used to annoy him, having to wake up earlier before work in order to have some time for a jog, but he was pretty used to it by now. His insomnia disagreed. It never failed to remind him how he could have used those extra minutes sleeping, something he was obviously incapable of doing at night like normal people.

Who was he kidding? He stopped being normal at 16. If he had ever been…

Something dashed beside him, a blur of black fur, making Stiles trip and barely keep his balance. He gasped, cursed, pulled out his earbuds and narrowed his eyes, trying to see ahead of him.

There, into the fog, was a barely distinguishable form of a wolf. It just stood there staring back as Stiles fought to catch his breath again. Something was off though. He couldn’t see the flash of the wolf’s eyes, bright like he knew them to be. He knew Derek’s wolf eyes were blue now and that was definitely Derek. Even in the fog and the sickly pale morning light he could never mistake the black fur, oddly sticking up on his head.

But there was no spark of blue in the fog. Not yellow either. Not even red, even as Stiles knew it wouldn’t make sense since Derek had given up his Alpha status for Cora’s sake…

The animal just stood there, silently staring at him and Stiles was reminded of the man he knew that it actually was, standing in the middle of those same woods years ago, staring at him and Scott menacingly.

_“This is private property…”_

But it wasn’t anymore. The state had taken hold of the Hale lands.

And there was nothing menacing in the wolf’s stance right now, or in the eyes that didn’t glow, but were studying Stiles curiously.

The animal stood there for a few more seconds, a few more heartbeats, and then it was gone, just as it had appeared, leaving Stiles stunned and dumbfounded.

Again.

* * *

 

Being in good shape included trying to eat healthy. Like the oatmeal and strawberries Stiles had had for breakfast. That didn’t mean he didn’t still love cheeseburgers and curly fries.

Like those sitting on his desk at work.

“Uh, guys? Who left this?”, he asked, confused. There was no card, no note, nothing.

“Oh! Tall, dark and handsome, totally your ty-…”

“ _Thank you_ , Tracy.”

What the fuck.

* * *

 

 _“Care to use your words for once so we could address your highly unusual behavior?”_ , he texted Derek later that night.

No response. Not now, not after 15 minutes, not even in the morning. Stiles cursed colorfully and decided on a new motto: “The hell with that Hale!”

* * *

 

The next thing he found on his desk was chocolate. Lots of it. He bristled, jumping to conclusions of girly gifts and mockery, until Tracy pointed out how his sugar-obsession was common knowledge. Stiles grumbled, stuffing his face with chocolate and looking nowhere near as authoritative and/or sexy in that particular moment, never mind the uniform.

He didn’t try to contact Derek.

* * *

 

And then there was that.

“What the…!”

Was that actually…? Was it…?

Yep. It was. An actual mountain lion. Dead. On his doorstep.

See, Stiles knew that wolves deemed it fitting to court their eventual partner by providing for them, usually small prey like rabbits. But nope, _that_ wolf had to go further. And because the black Camaro hadn’t screamed out what a show-off he was Derek had to go hunt down and drop off _a fucking mountain lion_ on his doorstep!

“You gotta be kidding me…”, Stiles muttered, staring dumbly at his “present”.

Those blood stains would be a bitch to clean.

* * *

 

Derek dragged his feet slowly, feeling cold and sluggish. Maybe he had a fever. Maybe that’s how humans felt when they were down with the flu. Derek hadn’t had the flu, ever. Then again, he hadn’t been Pining before either.

His wolf whined. If their Mate didn’t give an answer soon they would die either way.

His wolf was a dramatic bastard. Derek hadn’t even fully consented to this Courting, it was all his wolf doing. Derek hadn’t wanted to drag Stiles down in this shit.

He sniffed, adjusting the grip on the grocery bags as he stepped in his loft.

“So I felt like I should let you know that I don’t eat cougars.”

Derek nearly jumped a foot in the air, whipping around to locate the source of that very familiar voice. The fact that he hadn’t smelled his guest or heard his heartbeat sooner was disturbing. He was losing his senses again and the memory of the last time it had happened caused an unpleasant shiver.

Or maybe that was the cold again. 

He gulped dryly, trying to maintain an unimpressed façade.

“How did you get in?”, he asked. He didn’t like the rasp in his voice and how it felt using his dry throat.

“The door was open.”

Stiles stepped in closer and Derek was finally able to see him.

Both of him.

Fuck, he was getting dizzy again.

He turned around and headed for the kitchen.

“No, it wasn’t”, he said stubbornly. Unless he had really forgotten it wide open in his weakened and distracted state.

“It was unlocked”, Stiles amended.

“That still doesn’t give you the right to break and enter, _officer_ ”, Derek said, forcing a smug smile.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I heard a scream…”

“No, you didn’t.”

“The scream of your bullshit!”, Stiles raised his voice. He took a deep breath and tried again, now calmer. “Look, Derek, I just really need you to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Derek kept starring at the counter, unable to meet his eyes.

“Because I might be reading this wrong but it looks to me like official Courting.”

Derek sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Look, those... instincts are hard, if not impossible to ignore. I have these… urges that are stronger than me. It’s not like I wanted it…”

This close, he heard the skip of Stiles’ heart, heard the hitch in his breath and he immediately wanted to take back those words. Especially when the man abruptly turned and walked towards the door. Derek grabbed for his arm.

“Wait…”

Stiles’ hand wrenched itself out of his grip with ease and he pulled back a clenched fist, ready to strike; something it never did. There was something wild in his eyes, feral. And hurt.

“No. You don’t get to toss me around like that. You don’t get to send mixed signals only to fucking tell me you have no interest and hit the road again. You did it once, after Mexico. You knew there was something there, between you and me. And I was so fucking naïve, I had my hopes up. And what did you do? You fucking ran. So, no. You don’t get to do this again.”

And with that Stiles Stillinski walked away with his head held up and leaving a dumbstruck wolf behind.

* * *

 

Deaton’s call came two days later. And against his better judgment Stiles agreed to see the doc at his favorite local diner.

“He’s Pining, Stiles”, Deaton said bluntly.

He didn’t want to look curious or concerned about someone who had essentially rejected him but he couldn’t hold back from meeting Deaton’s eyes with an unspoken question.

“It’s when his inner wolf struggles with their eventual or possible partner’s lack of response of a Courting or simple rejection.”

Stiles looked away, frowning. Rejection?! It wasn’t him who had rejected the other!

“He is in an extremely dangerous condition, Stiles. His balance had been corrupted. He has almost no connection with his animal and can go feral at any time.”

“Corrupted, what do you mean corrupted?”, Stiles frowned.

Deaton sighed. “His wolf form… an evolution into a full wolf isn’t meant to happen to a Beta. The only known cases of full transformations have been a natural step up for Alphas. Like Talia.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Are you telling me that Derek has to become an Alpha again in order to remain as sane as he could possibly be?”, his eyes suddenly went wide and fearful. “Are you telling me he has to kill another Alpha?!”

There was only one other Alpha that he knew of recently.

“Are you telling me he has to kill Scott?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, cliffie! Don't worry I'll post the next chapter tomorrow ;)


	5. Untainted

Deaton sighed again, looking like he was holding back an eye-roll.

“No, Derek doesn’t need to kill Scott. But he does need something else. Or rather, someone else.”

Stiles frowned again, not following.

“What?”

Deaton looked like he was choosing his next words carefully.

“I’m saying that according to new researches there seem to be other ways to achieve Alpha status and it looks like what Derek’s wolf needs right now.”

He pulled out a tablet, surprising Stiles, and handed it over. There was a BBC article. Stiles’ eyes scanned it quickly, expertly, before he found what Deaton was referring to.

_“…the new theory that wolves become breeders (formerly known as ‘alphas’) not by fighting each other to get to the top of the rank order, but by finding **a mate** and producing offspring, then starting their own pack. According to Dr David Mech, a Senior Research Scientist with the US Geological Survey…”_

“So, Derek’s biological clock started ticking faster and he needs to date and find a mate, soon. Someone crazy enough to put up with his bullshit and the Eyebrows of Doom. Hard to find that, I’ll give you that…”

“Stiles. Derek _found_ a mate.”

Huh?

“Huh?”

Deaton’s eyes stared imploringly. Like he was waiting for Stiles to catch up.

“Oooooh, no, no, no! Nope. No can do.”

“Stiles, you’re the only one he has shown any interest in…”

“Uh, no, I’m not.”

“Recently.”

“Nope, not even that”, he said stubbornly, still hurt.

“Stiles…”

“No, you know what, Deaton? He doesn’t want that. Said it himself.”

Derek’s words were still loud and clear in his ears. _“It’s not like I wanted it…”_

 _“Not like he wanted **me** ”,_ Stiles’ mind helpfully translated.

“So you can forget it, man. Tell him to meditate or do some yoga and find that inner balance so I don’t have to shoot his furry feral ass, but _my ass_ is not an option.”

And with that Stiles spun around and promptly left.

* * *

 

It was well after midnight when Stiles’ phone rang with Scott’s obnoxious ringtone. He sighed heavily – he was tired, so fucking tired, why couldn’t they just let him sleep…

“’llo?”, he groaned, finally picking up.

“Stiles! Stiles, he’s losing it, man!”

“Whu…?!”

“Derek’s fucking losing it! I mean it, Stiles, I had to chain him and all! We’re at the loft, come here ASAP!”

It was enough to make him bolt from his bed, sleep long forgotten as a pained howl tore through the night.

* * *

 

It usually took him at least 15 minutes to drive to the loft. It took him 5 now. By the time he got there Scott was panting by the wall opposite from a chained Derek, obviously kicked there by the now feral wolf. Derek’s fangs, fully on display, bit onto his own lips and he tried to stifle his pained howls as vicious shivers wrecked his body. There was bloody foam on his mouth and his hands were all scratched from where his talons had dug into his own palms. Bitter tears fell down his face even as those hazel eyes were clenched tightly shut to prevent them.

Stiles cursed.

Scott’s Alpha red eyes immediately fixed on him.

And Derek’s eyes snapped open.

It was like all the fight left his body and he slumped on the wall with a half-sob half-whine.

Stiles didn’t think about all the possible dangers; didn’t stop to consider the fangs, the claws, the obviously feral state of the man before him. A force more powerful than his own self-preservation pulled him towards the chained wolf and he ran the few steps separating them, kneeling down at Derek’s feet, reaching for the bloodied chains.

“Stiles, no!”, Scott called, grabbing his shoulder.

None of them expected Stiles’ reaction.

Because the deputy whirled back, growling at his best friend…

...through fangs no smaller than Derek’s. His eyes shone bright yellow when he hissed,

“Stay. The fuck. Back.”

He turned back around, looking at Derek, grabbing his head.

“Hey. Listen up, Sourwolf. Listen to my heart, okay? Breathe with me. Come on, slowly. Yeah. Like that. Pull the shift back. Come on. Come back to me…”

The paws slowly faded back to human hands; fangs retreated back into Derek’s gums and his breathing slowed a little from the frantic pants.

But when he looked up at Stiles his eyes shone bright red.

* * *

 

“ _How?!_ ”

Deaton took a deep breath, his eyes following the pacing young man. Many things had changed in Stiles but some never would.

Unlike his best friend Scott was much calmer and therefore able to articulate better.

“How is it possible that Stiles shows off signs of being transformed without being bitten by Derek who isn’t even Alpha anymore?”, he translated, leaning on the counter next to his former boss.

Deaton sighed, rubbing his face tiredly.

“Once the connection is formed and set one thing can lead to the other – Derek’s wolf was on the verge between Beta and a natural evolution into an Alpha, which, as I already explained, his newly acquired full shift suggests. That’s why he’s been so agitated – he had lost that balance with his wolf. But he cannot become an Alpha without a Mate. Once Stiles showed acceptance of their bond, Derek’s wolf naturally evolved into his Alpha form, urging a shift in his Mate.”

“And as I already said, I have no interest of becoming Derek’s bitch-on-demand!”, Stiles bellowed.

Derek, blissfully unconscious on the table between them, didn’t so much as twitch.

Deaton rubbed his aching temples.

“Like you’re well aware of, Stiles, it runs much deeper than that. And like wolves, werewolves also mate for li-…”

“Open up your fucking ears, Deaton! He. Does not. Want me!  Said it straight to my face!”, Stiles yelled, storming out and slamming the door hard.

Derek chose that precise moment to wake up, sit up and look around confused.

“What happened?”

* * *

 

It spoke a lot to the kind of life he had that Stiles had his own spot at his favorite bar. It was at the far end of the counter, far from other patrons but never forgotten by the bartenders, Dylan and Lara.   

Since he had taken specific measures to be far from the other patrons he was kind of surprised when someone dragged a stool and sat right next to him.

Then again, he shouldn’t be surprised.

“You got it all wrong”, Derek said.

Stiles hummed thoughtfully, not looking up from his drink. He only ever drank beer, nothing stronger than that even on his shitiest days; he was far too scared not to become like his father and have to struggle to gain back his life from the bottom of the bottle.

“It’s not like I don’t want you. I just shouldn’t.”

Stiles snorted. “Story of my life”, he bit out before sipping from his beer again.

“You don’t get it”, Derek insisted, sounding more and more frustrated. “I was in a bad place for a real long time, Stiles, and I’m only barely on my way of getting better. I cannot drag you into this mess.”

“Well, news flash, big guy”, Stiles spat, finally looking into Derek’s eyes. “I’m already in it. Been there since I was sixteen. And you can’t even blame yourself for that – Peter dragged me and Scott into this.”

“And it was wrong…”

“That and hundred thousand other things in the world.”

“And it doesn’t mean that I should taint you…!”

“ _Taint_ me?”, Stiles snorted again with a frown and a bitter smile. “The Nogitsune tainted me, Derek. Losing people and being aware that I’m at least partly to blame tainted me. Being in FBI tainted me. And it broke me enough to make me take an unpaid leave and get myself a job as a deputy back in Beacon Hills.”

He stood up, pulled out some money and left it on the counter next to his half empty bottle.

“You have no idea how broken and tainted I am”, he hissed, turning on his heel to leave.

He could have imagined it but he thought he heard a quiet “Not to me.”

* * *

 

“Hello?”

“I’m thinking about seeing you. Professionally.”

“Stiles. It’s 3 a.m.”

“Derek’s back in town.”

There was a quiet rustling sound on the other side of the line; sheets were being moved, pages of a journal were being flipped through. Then,

“I’ll be there in two days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The BBC quote is from a real article I once read which kind of inspired this story :)   
> Review to let me know what you think :)


	6. With you

“That’s a big commitment.”

Stiles’ brows did a funny little twist. He pressed his lips tightly together and bit back a sarcastic remark about that being the understatement of the century. Lydia was just trying to help, really. She had ditched her own work and patients and classy-glassy office to come back in Beacon’s Hellhole and make sure Stiles was still sane. Relatively.

“I can’t be mated to Derek Hale, Lyds. I can’t be mated to _anyone_ , much less Derek.”

“Because you think you have commitment issues.”

“Well… You’re the expert, you tell me”, he tried to make it sound light and casual, but Lydia’s piercing gaze tore right through him.

“You don’t”, she said simply.

“But…”

“Just because it didn’t work with Malia, or me, doesn’t mean you’re not relationship-material. You will not screw this up just by being yourself. If anything, that’s exactly what Derek and his wolf were drawn to.”

“Just his wolf. Derek, not so much”, Stiles pouted.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “We’ll address that later. Now, let’s push on the most pressing issue – the other reason you haven’t dated since me that has nothing to do with you thinking that you fuck up your relationships, but more with the thing you never want to discuss. “

“I still don’t”, he said firmly.

She sighed. “Stiles. You have to eventually talk about what happened in New Y-…”

“Nothing happened, okay?! I just needed some time off the FBI!”

She remained pointedly silent at his outburst. It immediately made him feel horrible for yelling at her.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, looking down at the diner’s table. A delicate hand crawled over his clenched fingers and squeezed reassuringly.

“It’s not just the wolf wanting a mate. Derek’s always had a thing for you…”

“Right”, he huffed, “that’s why he ran.”

“That’s not why. Everyone should try and fix their mess of a life before pursuing a new love. Or rather, love they are finally ready to pursue.”

That finally reached him, shocking him enough to look up at his ex’s smug face.

“Derek might not have quite managed to fight down his own demons before coming home, maybe it was his animal that led him back here, but I guess on some level even he was aware that he should pursue his chance while he still has it. While you _both_ most need it.”

She leaned closer and gripped his hands tighter.

“Now listen to me Stiles. You need someone you can finally, completely open up with, someone strong enough. That’s why it didn’t work with me and Malia - you just never let yourself go, never let us completely in, too scared to hurt us. But Derek’s strong enough. You both know it. You both need a partner you can fully trust and completely let go with, share all of your darkest fears and all of your power. You can fight each other’s demons. You have to.”

She stood up gracefully.

“Derek and his wolf did not _just_ realize they love you. They just finally took the step to court you. So let them. Believe them. Believe that you are worth it and you deserve that – even with all of your darkness that you cannot face alone.”

Her heels clicked as she made her way to the exit as confidently as ever.

“Fix this mess and take me out for coffee while I’m still in town!”, she ordered, leaving the diner.

“What a woman”, the waiter muttered.

Stiles smirked. “Tell me about it.”

* * *

 

Stiles was just leaving the station when it happened. He was just about to sit behind the wheel when his phone started ringing. He sighed, digging out the device and closing his eyes before answering; gathering strength.

 “Yeah?”

“It’s happened again”, Scott said gravely. “We’re in the woods. He’s in full shift. And he’s completely gone.”

Scott sounded more put-together than the last time it had happened. Maybe because now he knew what needed to be done and was just waiting for Stiles to accept it too.

His next words confirmed that.

 “You have to decide once and for all, Stiles. Either you fully accept him and you guys work on it, or…”

“Or what, Scott?”, he growled.

“We can’t leave him like this. He’s dangerous in this state.”

“So basically either I mate with him or you kill him? How is that not pressuring me, Scotty?!”

“Pressure is when I tell you that you don’t have much time to make your decision”, Scott said grimly as a pained howl sounded on his side of the line.

Stiles gritted his teeth. Who was he trying to fool? Why was he even putting up a fight? He knew he had made his decision long ago, in a school pool…

* * *

 

Derek felt his hackles rising as he bared his teeth and growled warningly at the dark silhouettes cornering him. Yes, he knew he was cornered and he had no way out. He was all alone and he knew he could only stand his ground for so long before they ended him. Sure, he’d put up a fight, he’d never just give up, but he knew what the most probable outcome would be. He was Packless. Mateless. All alone.

Somewhere inside his head his wolf whined.

But on the outside, the big black wolf stood his ground and prepared to attack.

“Derek?”

His growl was abruptly cut off as he strained his ears. He knew that voice. And if he wasn’t hallucinating…

“Derek, it’s me.”

No, it couldn’t be him. Derek didn’t back down, still ready to attack. But he was on edge, listening, searching in the shadows and the blinding whiteness from the headlights of the cars, all parked in a wide circle around him. A lone figure stepped up, as if right from the middle of the light, tall and slim, and Derek remembered a time when it was lanky and fumbling but it was now much more muscular and graceful.

The man got a bit closer and fell on his knees, starting to crawl closer to Derek, still talking in a low, hushed, soothing tone. Derek wasn’t reassured, not yet. Many people had sweet-talked him into what had later turned out to be his worst nightmares.

“Stiles!”, called a voice from the darkness behind the headlights, a warning for the crawling man. Derek didn’t like that voice and how it tried to stop the man, as if Derek would attack without a reason. He wouldn’t. He growled at the idea and the voice.

“Shh, it’s okay, Sourwolf.”

Derek’s growl died in his throat again. No one else called him that. It had to be _him_ …

The man was finally close enough that even with the blinding light from the headlights Derek could see his face: the warm amber eyes, the mouth, stretched in a reassuring (if a bit strained) smile, the moles.

“Recognize me now?”, Stiles asked, reaching out.

The black wolf whined and stepped back once again, making something in Stiles’ heart break. He knew what the animal needed, what _Derek_ needed. He focused and felt his vision changing; he knew his eyes were now blazing yellow when he said,

“Derek, I’m here for you. I’m here to stay.” He opened his arms. “Come.”  

The wolf whined again, but instead of stepping back it crawled right into Stiles’ waiting arms, pressing itself as close as it could get, still giving small, distressed whines. Stiles wrapped his arms around it, dug his fingers into the black fur and held on tight.

“That’s right, Sourwolf, I’m here. I’m here for you.”

The animal shuddered and the black fur rippled and a moment later Stiles was cradling a very naked Derek Hale, still snuggling up to him. His eyes were still deep red when he looked up, fangs still poking out of his lips, slowly disappearing into his gums as the shift ended and two multicolored eyes blinked back at Stiles, disorientated. He smiled down at the man in his arms.

“You with me now?”

Derek nodded, his eyes still searching Stiles’. “Are _you_?”, he asked hoarsely. _With me._

Stiles snorted. “Always have been, idiot. Just wasn’t sure about _you_.”

Derek smirked, hiding his face by snuggling closer. “Same”, he grumbled, curling into his Mate’s arms.

“Comfortable, are you?”, Stiles remarked dryly. “Guess we’ll stay here for a while then”, he yelled the last part for the rest of the Pack, forgetting that…

“They can hear you, dumbass.”

Stiles looked down at his lap where Derek had curled. “Watch your snout or that’s the closest to my pants you’d ever get.”

Derek snorted and somewhere behind them Scott groaned of TMI’s and Bro Code before the Pack slowly dispersed.


	7. At our own pace

Derek stared at his chamomile tea while Stiles kept fussing around him. The deputy served the soup he had just prepared and smiled, opening his mouth to say something.

“I saw you with Lydia the other day”, Derek blurted.

Stiles’ brows shot up in surprise.

“Wow. You know, I said I’m here for you and I guess we are gonna really try this being mated stuff but still. We haven’t even really started this. There are so many things to figure out. It’s way too early for you to be jealous of my ex.”

Derek’s lips thinned in anger and annoyance but he said nothing, looking away and standing up, clearly having every intention to escape the room and the way this conversation was headed. Stiles was having none of this.

“Hey.”

He waited until Derek finally looked back at him.

“I don’t want this relationship to be like that: of unspoken words and misunderstandings. I won’t let it. So don’t turn your back on me when it gets even a bit hard, okay? Because it will get hard”, he smirked, “no puns intended but appreciated either way.”

Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles promptly ignored that.

“What I mean is, I’m not easy to live with. And neither are you. If we want this to work, we’ll have to _make_ it work.”

A barely perceptible nod was his only answer. Stiles counted it as a win.

He sighed.

“Lydia is actually a therapist”, Stiles snorted. “It’s always been kind of an inside joke between us, her choosing psychology after everything that happened in Eichen House. Although, that’s exactly why she did well in choosing it and she’s now excelling at it. Her practice is in New York. She came here because I called her. And, ironically as you pull that face, she came to help me accept us. Me and you, as a possibility I really want but I might… have been a little… reluctant in the beginning.”

He saw Derek tensing and hurried to add,

“Not because of you! I’d really love it if you stop always blaming yourself for everything. I just… Look, I’m not ready to talk about it yet, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be, but there are things about myself, dark and ugly things I don’t particularly like and they have been a rock to stumble on in my previous relationships.”

Derek nodded slowly. He then sat down carefully on the chair next to Stiles. And it looked like he was choosing his next words carefully.

“I think I have an idea how that feels. There are… things inside me I know I should… probably work on as well.”

He looked up hesitantly into Stiles’ eyes.

“I’ve been thinking of seeing a therapist too.”

Stiles’ eyes widened with surprise.

“That’s a big step, Derek. Even just realizing and considering it. Think you’re ready for that? To really do it?”

He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know yet.”

Stiles’ hand crawled over his own, clenched above the table, and squeezed reassuringly. There was a small warm smile on his face.

“I’ll be right there next to you. If you want me to. Or not, if you need to do this on your own.”

“And… when the time comes, if it comes… I… me too, you know?”, Derek said. He sounded hesitant to say it but looked completely determined to do it. Stiles smiled.

“I know, big guy. We’ll just have to figure out our own pace.”

* * *

 

Derek opened the door to the loft with a small frown.

“Stiles? What are you doing -…?”

Stiles lifted a bag of take-out.

“Feeding you. Spending time. No supernatural emergency, I promise.”

That was so obviously what Derek had thought since once Stiles reassured him the wolf’s tense posture relaxed somewhat and he stepped back to let the deputy in. Stiles was still in his uniform and once they were in the kitchen Derek could see the cruiser parked in front of the building.

“I’m just taking my lunch break”, Stiles said, following his gaze. “Gotta be back to work after that.”

Derek nodded.

“Thai curry? Or spicy chicken?”, Stiles asked.

“Chicken”, Derek said.

“Meat for the wolf”, Stiles hummed. “Should have known.”

“Did you want it?”, Derek frowned.

“Nah, I’ll steal a bite or two either way”, Stiles grinned cheekily.

“If you can”, Derek challenged.

“Sure I can, big guy”, Stiles winked looking awfully smug as he bit into a piece of chicken he had grabbed lightning-fast.

“For the record, I saw that and could have totally stopped you”, Derek pointed.

“I know.”

“I could have!”

“No, I totally know”, Stiles nodded. “But would you really deprive your mate?”, he batted his long lashes dramatically.

Derek narrowed his eyes.

“You’re taking advantage”, he realized.  

“Oh, I so am”, Stiles grinned.

They ate in silence for a minute before Derek spoke again.

“It should be me bringing you food.”

Stiles nodded. “And I’m willing to take advantage of that too. As long as you don’t turn it into a Neanderthal Alpha posturing.”, he deepened his voice and mimicked, ‘Derek Alpha. Derek bring food for mate. Mate stay in the cave.’”

Derek glared. Stiles flashed him a smile, nonplused.

“Joking of taking advantage aside, I’m willing to respect most of your wolf instincts, I really am. But I’m not gonna stay home or let you make all the decisions or be the only provider…”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to cage you. I just wish that you let me do nice things for you too, occasionally.”

“Like bringing food.”

“Yes.”

“Which, on a wolf level, is providing.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yes. It doesn’t really make me a domineering bastard to occasionally bring you a cheeseburger, don’t you think?”

Stiles didn’t answer immediately, instead slowly chewing his food.

“You see a lot in the FBI. And as a deputy”, he finally muttered.

Derek winced. “I can imagine. But I promise you that you will not be a case of domestic violence.”

It was Stiles’ turn to flinch. “I know that, big guy. I know _you_. I took that too far. Sorry.”

“It’s okay”, Derek said, daring to take Stiles’ hand a give it a gentle squeeze. He forced on a smile. “We’re okay.”

* * *

 

There was a cheeseburger on his desk a few days later. With a note.

 _“Derek bring food for mate”,_ it said.

Stiles felt comfortable to laugh at it.

* * *

 

Waking up earlier for his run became harder and harder. He had just finally fallen asleep when his alarm screamed at him. He decided to change his routine and start running in the evening instead. He thought he might be too tired after work but it turned out it worked for him.

The first evening run was uneventful.

But on the second evening there was a big black wolf on his doorstep, looking up at him expectantly. Stiles smiled.

“Wanna go for a run, boy?”

The wolf waved his tail and took off. He stopped by the fence and turned around as if to see if Stiles followed. Or to taunt him, daring him to try and catch a wolf.

Stiles shook his head and took off after him.

* * *

 

They ended up running much more than Stiles usually ran. Combined with the fact that he had been working before that Stiles quickly regretted going that far into the woods.

“Carry me”, he bemoaned, making grabby hands at a now human Derek (who had obviously planned that since he had clothes hidden in the woods, the smug bastard).

The smug bastard who now smirked cockily at his poor tired mate.

“Oh? What happened with ‘I’m a big, capable deputy who can take care of himself’?”

“He tried to catch a supreme predator who was running on four paws, totally unfair!”, Stiles bristled.

Derek huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Then, in a flash-move, he grabbed Stiles and started walking back.

“There’s food in the loft. Just saying”, Derek smirked.

“Fine! You win! Take me to feast with the prey you caught, oh, Alpha mine!”, Stiles grumbled.

“I’m not making you”, Derek noted.

“And I ain’t gonna beg you!”

“It’s homemade pizza. My gran’s recipe”, Derek divulged.

Stiles salivated.

“…Please?”

Derek laughed.

* * *

 

Stiles had a toothbrush. At the loft.

He stared down at it, wondering when it had happened. He shrugged; it was too late at night to think about that. He rinsed and spat and went to curl on the couch for the night.

* * *

 

The sheriff eyed the cheeseburger on Stiles’ desk enviously but didn’t dare to complain about his salad. Both were delivered by Derek (“Aiming for brownie points with a salad for my dad, Der?”), along with curly fries and a real brownie. Stiles munched happily, ignoring the stink-eye from his father. After the last close call with a bullet wound and a distressed son demanding that his father must retire the sheriff chose his battles carefully.

“I love these, what do they put in these?”, Stiles moaned.

“Salsa de barbacoa”, Derek grinned, waving the bag from El Fuego’s.

“Y encurtidos”, Stiles nodded. “Theirs are different than ours.”

“When did you learn Spanish?”, Derek asked.

Stiles coughed a bit, looking away.

“In New York”, he just said.

Derek nodded, not pressing for more. He had very quickly picked up which topics were not up for discussion.

“And it’s en-cur-TI-dos, not encurtidOs”, he pointed out.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, you’re such a Hermione!”

“And you’re such an old married couple…”, one of the deputies muttered under their nose.

* * *

 

Spending the night at Derek’s place was never planned. They either marathoned something Stiles deemed a must-see and ended up too late into the night for the deputy to go back to his house, or did research for some of Stiles’ current cases where Derek insisted he could help or something else came up. Stiles stopped being surprised to find his own clothes, washed and put away in a drawer that soon became his. He was surprised though when Derek first offered to share the bed upstairs instead of Stiles taking the lumpy couch.

“It’s warmer there too”, Derek had shrugged. And Stiles didn’t have it in himself to say that he knew something about werewolves and scent sharing. Especially with a mate. Which they were supposed to be.

The first time Stiles slept in Derek’s bed he kept tossing around, at some point turning to tell Derek that there was no AC here actually so where was the supposed warmth?

And then he got it. _Derek_ was the warmth. Wolves had a higher temperature so Derek was practically a 200 pound furnace. And… wasn’t werewolf cuddling kind of the point here? He was a good, caring mate after all…

“You’re thinking too loud”, Derek complained.

“For your information-….”, Stiles started indignantly.

“C’m’ere”, Derek just said, lifting an arm.

Stiles did.

He slept like a baby through the whole night.

That was the last time he had any worries about sleeping arrangements.

* * *

 

“…and basically known him since I was a brat…”

“You’re still a brat.”

“Ha-ha. See if I let you drive back to the loft! My _point_ is, Derek, that Jordan is the most logical choice for a partner…”

“Has someone asked _him_?”

 “Is there really any need?! We all know I’m a treasure to mankind…”

Derek fought to cover his laugh with a cough and was only saved from Stiles’ suspicious glare by a young woman passing by with a stroller.

“Hello, Deputy!”, she greeted.

“Mrs. Collins, hey! How are you? How’s little Emma?”, Stiles bent down to make funny faces for the baby.

Derek left them be, not wanting to impose on their interaction. He used that time to pick up oats and strawberries and that brand of milk Stiles insisted on. When he turned back to look for his mate Stiles was just a step behind him; the woman was nowhere in sight. There was a soft smile on the deputy’s face when he looked at the shopping cart.

“What?”, Derek asked.

“Nothing”, Stiles shook his head, moving ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to Zephiel who explained the Spanish pronunciation :)


	8. Living arrangements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I was accused of writting too much fluff, so here's some angst for all those who whined about "soooo much fluff".  
> Also, warnings for mild triggers but mostly if you have ever listened to Linkin Park (as you should have, in their earlier days) and know why the topic is so sad for all their fans right now.

“Have you thought about… living arrangements?”

There was something tentative yet still hopeful in Derek’s voice when he asked that over coffee (and a donut because Stiles was stereotypical like that).

Stiles almost choked on said donut and it took Derek patting his back for him to be finally able to rasp out,

“What?”

“Theoretically.”

“Right”, Stiles coughed some more. “Is this a matter of a… den, or something?”

“Not everything is about my wolf, Stiles”, Derek huffed, crumbling his napkin.

“Isn’t it… like too soon?”, Stiles asked, admitting his true worry.

Or was it really? He had no idea how much time had passed since he had accepted Derek back there, in the woods, since they started spending days (and some nights) together. He thought about his toothbrush and his clothes back at the loft. He almost already lived there.

“Look, if you don’t want to, I get it…”

“Derek, just… Shut up for a second”, Stiles said, rubbing at his forehead.

What did he have to lose? He was currently paying a decent rent for his small house but the lease was up soon. If it all went south he could always go back to his dad’s house till he found something else.

“Okay”, he said.

“Yeah?”, Derek asked with badly hidden hope.

“Yeah”, Stiles smiled.

* * *

 

Moving in together seemed way too fast and in every other situation it probably would have been. But it felt right, the way it hadn’t with his every other relationship, so Stiles decided it was okay.

Besides, Derek’s animal needed it.

Stiles had thought it might have needed it but he was completely certain once Derek flung open the loft’s heavy door, looking eager and… happy. He flashed one of his rare smiles and took the box of personal belongings from Stiles’ hands, as well as the small duffel bag – all Stiles had dared to take with himself to Derek’s place when they decided to try this, soon as it seemed to be.

“So, uh, there’s space for your clothes in the closet and… leave the rest wherever you want, I guess. And we should go buy stuff. Definitely. Like, I got you a bedside table but do you need a dresser or…? A bigger TV. Yes. That.”

Stiles smiled. Maybe it wasn’t just the animal, or maybe they really weren’t as separate as Stiles had initially thought.

* * *

 

He was proven right a few weeks later, during their fist fight.

“Let’s face it, Der. You wouldn’t even look at me twice if your wolf hadn’t been too stubborn to ignore. You only see me as the mate of your wolf’s choice.”

“I’m not the one who’s with you only ‘cause it’s the easiest way out!”, Derek hissed, his eyes switching to bright angry red for a second.

Stiles stared, gobsmacked.

“I’m not with you out of convenience, Derek”, Stiles said in a level voice.

“No. You’re only with me out of pity”, Derek spat out. “What? You think I don’t know it? That you only see me as a charity case, something you just need to do right…”

Stiles snickered. Derek glared.

“Do not turn this around!”

“And why the hell not?”, Stiles snorted. “This whole thing, the notion itself, is hilarious.”

He looked up, no longer laughing, staring imploringly in Derek’s angry hazel eyes. This was important and the idiot had to understand.

“Derek, I have lusted after you for pretty much my whole puberty since I met you. And then I realized those feelings had gotten deeper somewhere along the way. I may not have walked into this relationship calmly and quietly and we sure as hell still have a long way to go, but don’t turn me into some martyr who gains nothing out of this or only does what’s easier.”

Derek’s eyes were wary and guarded; but his pose was proud and stubborn, a Hale to the end.

“You want me to believe you really want this?”, he asked carefully.

_You want **me**?_

Stiles snorted again, collapsing in the nearest chair and rubbing his face with both hands. He felt so fucking tired, why couldn’t it be easy between them, just once?

“I want to be wanted for myself, Derek, not because I smell good to your inner animal.”

“It’s not about…”

“Figuratively said!”, Stiles groaned, rubbing harder at his temples.

 Derek’s silence was thick and awkward and Stiles was about to drop it and say that it didn’t really matter anyway, when,

“My wolf is not a separate being. If it wants you as a mate it’s because I… I want you as a partner as well.”

“Right, and you just suddenly realized it when you came back…”

“Come on, Stiles. You’re smarter than this.”

And there was something in Derek’s voice than made him finally look up at the werewolf’s fidgeting figure. 

“So you knew…?”, he tried.

Derek looked away to the side.

“How long?”, Stiles asked quietly.

“Awhile.”

“How _long_ , Derek?”

“…Since before the first time in Mexico.”

“So you really did know exactly what that was, between us, and how deep it went. And you kept quiet.”

“You know exactly why I kept quiet, I _told you_ I just didn’t want to ruin you with my mess…!”

“And you still ran away after the second time in Mexico!”

“To keep you safe and away from th-…!”

“Why? You decided that you didn’t want me after all? You realized that I was a shitty choice of a life partner and you had a fucked up taste in-…”

Derek’s lips were suddenly smashing his in a brutal, forceful kiss. This was not meant to impress. This was meant to make a point.

He pulled back in a moment, only an inch away, and whispered over Stiles’ bruised and moist lips,

“Never say that again. Never doubt in yourself or how fucking much I fucking want you. And stop being so insecure because you have no reason to be.”

“Y-yeah?”, Stiles asked in a small voice.

“Yeah. And you might not be able to smell it on me but I’m in a constant state of arousal around you. Basically I’m a teenage-you”, he smirked.

Stiles elbowed him. But he was fighting a smile, a smile that darkened way too soon for Derek’s liking when Stiles said,

“You only feel that way because your wolf is drawn to your mate.”

Derek sighed. But he fought to stay calm when he said,

“Yes, and as we have already established and we should both finally accept - my wolf and I are one and the same. I’m drawn to you, the way I haven’t been drawn to another person, on a whole new level. It’s not just lust. You’re the perfect partner I’ve always sought and _that’s why_ you’re my mate. My instincts are just trying to help us, I guess.”

Stiles blinked.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you talk so much.”

Derek smirked. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

“You said perfect partner. I’m not perfect, Derek.”

“No one is. But you are to me”, he sighed again. “Did we voice out everything that bothered us? Are you really gonna keep pushing?”

Stiles smirked. “Someone has to. It’s always back and forth between us.”

Derek propped his chin on top of Stiles’ head; Stiles had to bend it down some for that, since they were now equally tall.

“I’m getting used to that”, Derek said.

Stiles huffed a laugh in his neck.

* * *

 

Stiles all but crawled in the kitchen, drawn by the smell of coffee. And bacon.

“’m gonna get fat”, he bemoaned.

“Good morning to you too, mate. You are welcome to enjoy the breakfast I woke up early to make for you”, Derek snarked.

Stiles’ lips twitched in a lazy smile.

“You’re so easy to love”, he blurted.

He froze, at the same time as the sound of broken glass made him flinch. Stupid, no filter, decaffeinated brain.

“I mean… you’re a control freak and you bitch about scattered clothes and dirty socks and drinking from the carton and it’s way too soon for such bullshit and you’re not easy to _live_ with but your jabs are funny and smart and I haven’t had my coffee yet so can we please ignore that?”

Derek looked not just disappointed but… stricken. He frowned, quickly looking away.

“Your bacon is burning”, Stiles noted.

Derek cursed, turned off the hot plate and threw the pan in the sink. He rubbed a hand down his face.

“Or not”, Stiles braced himself.

Derek looked up, confused.

“Not ignore it. I am really decaffeinated right now but I do sleep better since I got here and… since we share a bed. Since I have you in my life again, at all, and… fuck it. We do everything too quick because we waited ten fucking years to start doing anything at all. So fuck it. I love waking up to your cooking. I love that you let me steal the blankets and you whine about so many other things but not that. I love that you pick my favorites in the store without me having to ask. I love that you don’t push for things I’m not ready to give. So yeah, here… you’re easy to love, Derek Hale, and I do.”

Derek’s smile was slow and hesitant in the beginning, just a twitch of lips. But then it bloomed full force, bunny teeth and all and Stiles was completely gone.

“Is there more bacon? Cuz I kinda need it now that I smelled it and I still have no coffee, what is that travesty?!”

Derek shook his head fondly. He deposited an Avengers mug on the table, along with another plate of bacon and eggs.

“Yours was ready to begin with”, he just said.

He didn’t comment on Stiles’ declaration. But his ears were still pink and when he passed by he planted a lingering kiss on Stiles’ brow.

* * *

 

There were days when Stiles hated the stairs. Especially the 134 steps to the loft after a double shift.

“Der?”, he called, toeing off his shoes.

“In here”, the man answered from the kitchen. Stiles groaned, dragging his feet to get there.

“Tell me you’re cooking”, he pled.

He entered the kitchen and was blessed with the sight of Derek, sleeves rolled up and a towel tossed on his shoulder, stirring something in a pot. It smelled delicious.

“I am”, he smirked over his shoulder.

“I won’t say it again, cuz it’s too soon after the last time and I’m not a stupid sap but, uh… you know”, he lifted a thumb and a forefinger and then pointed at Derek.

“You think I’m a loser?”, Derek teased.

“No, dumbass, it’s the… the L word.”

The wolf snorted. “Well then.”

He lifted his own thumb and forefinger, pointed at Stiles and lifted his forefinger and his middle finger in a V.

_“Love u too.”_

Awe.

Stiles bit back a smile and slumped into the closest chair.

“So how was your day, dear?”, he grinned cheekily instead.

He _felt_ Derek rolling his eyes, even as the man had his back turned on Stiles. But his shoulders were tense when he answered.

“I went to therapy today.”

When Stiles didn’t immediately react he turned around to gauge his reaction. The deputy watched him carefully, trying to read the wolf on his own.

“And… how was it?”

Derek sighed, depositing Stiles’ plate of spaghetti on the table then his own; he then poured some homemade tomato and basil sauce over the pasta and sprinkled a generous helping of ground cheese. He finally sat down and stabbed his fork into his food.

“Draining.”

“I bet”, Stiles nodded. “But do you think it might help, with time? Like, you probably have to paraphrase a lot in order to keep the supernatural a secret, so…”

Derek nodded. “I actually thought about visiting Lydia at first. As a fellow supe. But…”

“It would be too weird. I know”, Stiles half-smiled, half-winced.

The corner of Derek’s lip twitched.

“Yeah. So. To wrap everything into an acceptable form. It’s draining. And I have no idea if it helps”, he said, still stabbing his food.

Stiles’ hand covered his and squeezed. Derek swallowed.

“I also got a job”, he said quietly, looking back up at Stiles.

The deputy was beaming.

“Had a busy day, huh, big guy?”

“It’s nothing big. I’ll work from home and uh…it’ll hopefully make a decent living. I… don’t want to spend my inheritance on meaningless things like bills and gas. That’s just not what it was about.”

Stiles nodded, completely understanding.

“Well? What is it? Your new job?”, he asked, wide eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“I’m going to translate some stuff. Mostly articles but then maybe, eventually… books too.”

“That’s _really_ great, Derek”, Stiles smiled.

So proudly.

Derek blushed, looking back down.

“So Spanish?”, Stiles asked, finally digging into his food (and letting out an indecent moan).

Derek nodded. “German too. A little bit of Italian. French and Japanese, not so well”, he admitted.

When he looked up again, Stiles stared at him with an open mouth. He shook his head, shaking a forefinger at the wolf.

“One day, Derek Hale.... One day…”

It sounded like a promise.

* * *

 

Shopping with a werewolf turned out to be quite tiresome lately.

Derek _sniffed_ a cucumber, made a face and put it back down. He lifted a tomato, did the same and strode away, looking even more disgusted and frustrated.

“What is it?”, Stiles asked, walking half a step behind him.

“They all smell like chemistry”, Derek grumbled.

“Then how about…”

“Everything smells like that!”

Their steps echoed in the awkward silence. Derek stopped and ran a hand down his face.

“I’m… it’s the full moon, sorry.”

Stiles’ hand squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“Hey.”

Derek turned around. Stiles smiled.

“Come on. I wanna show you something.”

* * *

 

The ‘something’ was apparently out of Beacon Hills, in the next town over. Stiles drove, still in his uniform, even if it was after his shift. Derek kept fidgeting next to him.

They passed a sign and Stiles pulled over just as Derek read the words. Farmers market. He looked at his mate. Stiles smiled and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on”, he just said.

It was outdoors, right next to a small forest. Everything smelled fresh and clean. Derek took deep breaths, trying to gather everything in, every smell, every sight, to remember every small detail. He strode to the first stall and grabbed an apple, sniffing. He closed his eyes. That was _it_.

Someone chuckled next to him and he opened his eyes to see a middle aged woman smiling at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Smells good, right?”, she asked, not even trying to hide the pride from her voice. Derek nodded. “Straight from the garden”, the woman said.

“We’ll take a dozen”, Stiles said, pulling out his wallet. He saw Derek reaching for his own but shook his head with a smile. “You should have seen your face. Let me do this for you, okay?”

Derek nodded slowly. Stiles’ smile widened.

“Go sniff some more”, he winked, turning to pay the woman.

Derek did. His eyes immediately fixed on piles of greens, potatoes, _real_ cucumbers and tomatoes, fresh herbs. Before he took off he heard behind his back,

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah”, Stiles answered.

Somehow, he sounded just as proud as the woman with the apples.

* * *

 

It had been a rough few days at work. It was still hard to accept that they sometimes weren’t on time, sometimes couldn’t save everyone. It was history repeating itself, taking him back to a darker time where he had felt just as helpless.

He sat in the passenger seat of the cruiser and stared through the window with unseeing eyes. His coffee was getting cold but he didn’t feel like drinking it anymore.

“Hey”, Jordan called from the driver’s seat. “Where are you, partner?”

Stiles blinked and looked down at his clenched fists before he turned to stare at Parish.

“Don’t you feel… useless sometimes? Like, all that has been given to us, by the law or by the supernatural is still just… not enough?”

Jordan’s hold on the steering wheel turned a bit too tight.

“Yeah”, he just sighed.

They spent the rest of the drive in silence.

* * *

 

It was Stiles’ turn with the laundry. It wasn’t his favorite task but Derek had cooked (again) and he refused to slack from his own house chores. The music was just a background and he barely noticed what song he was humming along to.

“ _…I had to fall, to lose it all…but in the end, it doesn’t even matter…_ ”

“You’ve been too quiet lately.”

He turned around, startled and tense. The strain in his smile was so obvious but he still tried. Derek obviously didn’t buy it.

“And… it matters to me.”

 “…It’s just a song, Derek.”

“Is it?”

Stiles’ shoulders relaxed a little; he allowed his smile to turn a bit bitter and sad when he admitted,

“They played a big part in a certain moment of my life. I, uh… I was really shocked when he… when he passed.” 

“Chester?”

Stiles looked up, surprised, before he nodded. Derek tried to formulate his next words very carefully, the way Stiles had just chosen his words; he knew just how Chester Bennington had died.

“Please tell me you’ve never thought about that.”

Stiles swallowed thickly, looking away. He remembered all those times he had contemplated his pills and his eyes had lingered, wondering ‘what if?’ All those times Scott had hidden the knives, just in case. All those times at the range at the Academy, and then later on when he had his own service weapon and had stared down at it contemplatively.

“I can’t.”

Derek felt that like a stab in his heart. He didn’t know what was worse – that Stiles had contemplated suicide or that he admitted of it so lightly now.

“Have you… talked to someone, Lydia or…?”, he choked out.

Stiles shook his head. “It felt wrong to worry her.”

“Worry h-… Stiles, I…. you have to…”

Stiles grabbed his hand and squeezed, gently but firmly. His smile was crooked but genuine.

“Derek. I can’t promise you I’ve never thought about it. But I can promise you that I _don’t_ , anymore.”

Derek nodded and swallowed dryly. “Okay. Good. Because I can’t lose you now that I’ve just found you”, he whispered.

“You found me in the woods when I was sixteen”, Stiles smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“And it took me almost ten years to give in to you.”

Stiles took his hand and held on tight, staring at their twined fingers.

“Look. Therapy’s making you oversensitive”, he felt Derek tensing, ready to pull away and hurried to add, “That’s good because it means it’s _working_. But I’m okay, Derek. I really am now, here with you.”

Derek’s tense shoulders relaxed somewhat.

“But if you… if it gets dark again… you’ll tell me, _right_?”

Stiles smiled. “I will, big guy. I will.”


	9. Heat wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for smut, not overly explicit.

Stiles stared at the thermometer with a frown. It wasn’t exactly a fever but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. He had no other symptoms, no sore throat or a runny nose.

Derek propped his chin on his shoulder.

“Are you getting down with something?”, he asked.

“Hopefully not”, Stiles grumbled, putting the thermometer away. “It’s nothing to worry about either way, you saw for yourself.”

“Why did you even check then?”, Derek pressed.

Stiles shrugged. “I woke up feeling weird. A bit tired and like I can’t concentrate on anything. Anyway”, he sighed, putting on a smile. “Might just be the Adderall playing tricks on me again. Nothing to worry about, big guy”, he patted Derek’s arm.

Derek didn’t seem so sure.

* * *

 

That had been on Monday. Three days later the annoying itch all over his skin hadn’t disappeared. His focus was almost nonexistent.

And Derek kept sniffing around him with a confused little frown whenever Stiles entered or exited the room, as if searching for an elusive scent. Or a scent he couldn’t exactly place.

* * *

 

It wasn’t the Adderall. He remembered taking it in the morning, just like every other morning, just like the doctor had said.

“…and I thought maybe he could help? Stiles?”

“Hm?”

What was Scott doing here?

He still couldn’t concentrate if his life depended on it. His skin felt oversensitive, itchy and clammy. Did he have a fever this time? Possibly. A mild headache too. Was he actually going down with a cold or the flu or something? He was indeed feeling dizzy.

His phone buzzed and he looked down at a message from Scott.

_“dude ur eyes!”_

Stiles looked up, right into Scott’s wide, panicked eyes, taking a note of every speck and hue; he also noticed his friend’s face paling and his pulse quickening.

Fuck.

“Uh, I should…”, he muttered, keeping his eyes half-closed and looking down, avoiding his colleagues’ curious eyes and making a quick escape straight to the toilets, where he tripped on his way to the sinks and barely caught the edges of the nearest one. He looked up in the mirror only for a pair of golden eyes to stare right back at him.

Double fuck!

What the hell was wrong with him!? Was it the full moon?! No, no, there were at least ten more days till then. _Could_ it even be, since he wasn’t even a full werewolf?!

Scott burst into the toilet right behind him.

“Stiles? Hey…”

“Don’t come any closer!”, Stiles yelped. “I… I have no idea what is going on…”

Scott sniffed. _Again_ with the sniffing. Stiles rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, but Scott was faster.

“You smell… different. Like… nice.”

“Uh. Well, thanks, Scotty, good to know that I usually do not smell nice to you.”

“No, I mean… like something… I don’t know! Malia smells like that when…”

Scott’s eyes widened and he gaped.

Just then the doors burst open and Derek barreled in, looking around like a madman. His eyes were blazing red, his nostrils flared and a hint of a fang poked from his lips. He spotted Stiles and immediately backed him into a corner, blocking Scott’s view.

And pushing his snout into Stiles’ neck.

_Again with the sniffing!_

“Derek…”, Scott tried, earning himself a warning growl. That didn’t stop him and honestly Derek should have known better that Scott didn’t give up easily. Especially when it concerned his friends. “Derek, this is important. Have you guys talked about it and how you’d deal with it? Because if you haven’t and you don’t have his consent, I’m gonna have to…”

“Consent? What consent!? Will somebody tell me what the fuck is going on here!”, Stiles exploded, seconds away from a panic attack.

Derek must have felt that and it must have made a point because he took a deep breath to rein back his control and the look he gave Stiles was calm and steady.

 “You’re in heat”, he said.

In. _What_!?!

Oh, fuck! Was it possible, he wasn’t even a real werewolf, only having turned into something like it for stupid Derek’s sake and the fucking mate thing. Shit, fuck, they hadn’t talked about this, what the fuck, how the fuck were they gonna deal with it?! No, meaning, Stiles had read enough about it to know _how_ , but. _Must_ they!? Or. Did he _want_ to? Was he ready to? First time having sex _with Derek_? First time having _gay_ _sex_? First time having _gay werewolf_ _sex_! They’d lived together for a while already and sure, they had fooled around, experimenting with touch and boundaries, but never anything… penetrative. He was a red-blooded man, of course his whole fucking body screamed that hell yeah he was ready and he wanted to! His body was on board. But was his mind in it too?

“Stiles. Stiles, breathe. Hey, listen to me”, Derek was talking again, again with that calm authoritative voice. “We don’t _have to_ have sex. You _will_ feel better if we do, but we are not obliged to. It’s recommended that we spend it in close proximity, but even that is not a must. It all depends on you. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s chest; it was easier to talk about this stuff like that.

“I want to. I just wished it happened out of… that, so I’m fully with my mind”, he snorted. “Why did we wait?”

“I thought you weren’t… you always said things happened too quick and too soon and… I didn’t want to push.”

“ _I_ didn’t want to push! You were going through… things and I thought… it wasn’t the right time…”

“So when will you guys start actually talking to each other?”, Scott grinned.

Twin glares, red and yellow, shot that grin down and he lifted his hands in surrender.

“I see you’ll be just fine without me”, he said and hurried to escape the eyes-of-doom.

“Can we just go home?”, Stiles sighed.

He’ll figure out some sensible reason for his sick leave.

Certainly not _heat_.

* * *

 

Discussing a sick leave with his father while trying to hide a semi was only mildly mortifying. _That’s_ what Stiles’ life had become.

Getting back home to take care of that semi with his werewolf mate while still in his deputy uniform didn’t even make it top 10  in Stiles’ list of embarrassing things that had happened to him.

He turned in the passenger seat and stared at said werewolf mate.

“You seem awfully smug, Sourwolf. I haven’t _actually_ agreed on anything, so don’t look like you’ve already gotten into my pants.”

Derek snorted, but he saw Stiles’ narrowed eyes and hurried to explain.

“It’s not that. Even if you decide not to have sex, not to share your first heat with me at all, the fact that you did go into it is… well, it makes my wolf really happy. I mean… for a _human_ to share our power – that was the first sign that you accept this bond; accept _me_. And your heat is just another proof. It means that you trust me enough to go through it if I’m there to protect you. It means that in a time of great vulnerability and basic need, you know you can rely on me. That… that means a lot to me.”

Stiles smiled then sighed dramatically.

“Who am I kidding, you’re so getting some tonight.”

* * *

 

The fever got worse by the time they got back to the loft. Stiles took a shower while Derek made sure they had everything they needed. By the time he stepped out of the bathroom there were water bottles, light dairy-free food, lube and condoms by the bed, as well as towels, tissues, extra pillows and comforters. It should have calmed him, how totally cool and collected Derek seemed.

Instead it irked him. And he was reminded how very much not in control he himself was.

It was suddenly too much, the stark contrast between the two of them, and Stiles sat on the edge of the bed, fingers – trembling from fever and fury - combing through his hair.

“Are you not affected at all?!”, Stiles hissed, suddenly angry that he was reduced to a hot writhing mess while Derek seemed so cool.

He didn’t quite catch the movement but next thing he knew his hand was grabbed and he was roughly turned to the side, facing Derek who knelt on the bed next to him. His eyes were blazing red and looked a little wild. He lowered Stiles’ hand, palm down, over his naked chest and forcibly drew it down slowly till it reached… a very prominent tent in his sweatpants. Stiles’ breath hitched. A thick eyebrow crawled up above the crimson eye. Stiles nodded.

“Point taken.”

* * *

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind Stiles knew he wanted to remember their first time, as much as he regretted it being during a heat. And that’s precisely the problem and the reason he regretted it – he wanted to remember every detail, every swipe of Derek’s tongue, every careful caress, the long and complicated foreplay; instead there were only fractured pieces of memories he fought to keep through the haze of fever.

He panted, trying to take deep breaths and panicking a little when he couldn’t. It was all too much and too complex for his messed up mind and his poor body. Derek was inside him in every sense of the world, pulsing and throbbing, soul bared and mind open for Stiles’, humbly asking permission into Stiles’ mind, too. And Stiles was… he was overwhelmed, okay? He needed something to ground him, something to focus on…

Like those blazing red eyes that looked so ready to help him, guide him through anything, and stared at him with such open adoration that Stiles was completely dumbstruck. He’d had no idea, that sex with Derek was going to be like… that.

And maybe it wasn’t usually. But they weren’t just a random casual fuck. And Stiles couldn’t imagine Derek looking at anyone else but his mate the way he now looked at him. And that was important on so many levels, stunning and humbling and…

His fingers were wet. He looked down at his hand, gripping Derek’s bicep with all its might. It wasn’t water. It was blood. His fingers had… holly!... He had grown claws. And right now they were digging into Derek’s flesh.

Stiles choked, pulling his hand back immediately and looking back at Derek, ready to apologize but his lips were shut with a soft kiss. His heart tripped badly inside him, lips opening again once they free.

“Shh…”, Derek muttered soothingly. He smiled, nodding at his arm.

Stiles looked. The wound was healed, the flesh smooth and warm and only the faint traces of red hinted that it had ever even been injured.

“’t’s okay… can take it…”, Derek breathed in his ear. He sounded almost high and Stiles imagined it must be pretty overwhelming for him too. Bracing himself, he wriggled his hips a tiny bit. Derek choked on a moan but held himself back. Stiles moved again. It wasn’t so bad… still overwhelming, but not bad.

 _“You’re both strong enough for each other”,_ Lydia’s voice whispered in his head, a ghost from a distant memory.

Stiles’ lips traced Derek’s ear and he whispered,

“I can, too…”, before he pushed and clenched around Derek.

Another bitten off moan and that was all the warning Derek gave him before he started moving for real, slowly and gently at first but no longer scared that Stiles was going to break.

His mate was strong enough to take him.

* * *

 

Stiles woke up sprawled on top of Derek. They were both naked and their skin looked raw. Only Derek’s thoughtful idea of towels and wipes had saved them from dried come and chaffed skin where they would have stuck together but Stiles still felt sweaty and nasty. The idea of a shower sounded amazing but he was way too tired to move. Yet somehow, he was still horny.

“Wha’ day izit?”, he wheezed.

“S’turday”, Derek groaned.

Stiles lifted his head just barely, just to look at the window. It was almost dark outside. Dusk. They had spent two full days in bed.

“How long does a heat last?”, he frowned.

“One more day”, Derek answered, eyes still closed.

“Mm”, Stiles hummed. “You better brace yourself then, Sourwolf”, he said wiggling his hips.

One hazel eye slid open. “Again?”, Derek groaned.

Stiles nodded, biting his lip. “Can you…?”

He was suddenly flipped on his back. Derek loomed above him, red eyes fully awake and a bastard grin already on his puffy lips. He thrust his hips into Stiles’ rubbing their cocks together.

“You were saying?”

* * *

 

Stiles pulled back the shower curtain and sighed. His skin was still a bit oversensitive but all in all he wasn’t as sore as he had expected after a three day sex rodeo. Maybe there was a were-healing factor involved, he thought as he ran a hand down the steamy mirror. He inspected his Mating bite, received on the first day, on their very first time. It was bold, high enough for the world to see. He smirked to himself – he had expected nothing less from Derek.

He went back to the bedroom and rummaged for some clothes. He pulled on a pair of clean jeans and one of Derek’s Henleys; he had a hunch the wolf would like that. Then he went down to join his mate for breakfast.

He spent a moment, just standing there, leaning against the door case and enjoying the simple domesticity of his man, cooking every possible breakfast food he could think about.

The moment Derek felt him watching - or more likely the moment he finally turned around, Stiles shook his head with a small fond smile. He stepped into the kitchen and patted Derek’s shoulder.

“You did good… Alpha.”

Hazel eyes widened a little and his cheeks colored a bit as Derek all but whispered,

“You know…?”

“That your instincts are screaming at you to provide for your finally claimed mate? And provide him with any possible food? Yep, I’m aware. And since I’m starving I’ll take advantage. But how about we share all that”, he suggested, waving a hand at the heaping piles of food, “then burry ourselves in bed again and make out lazily since I’m also exhausted but still frisky?”

Derek looked torn between exasperated, fond, needy and embarrassed with himself as he stared at the floor, still blushing slightly. He ran a nervous hand at the back of his neck but nodded in agreement.   

They both knew he’d do anything his mate wanted.

* * *

 

It was barely noon when the loud banging on the door made Derek reluctantly drag his feet to answer it. He was still exhausted after Stiles’ heat. Stiles on the other hand had looked perfectly content and chirpy when he’d left for work just a few hours ago.

Derek slid open the door and frowned a little when he saw Scott on the other side.

“Stiles is not here”, he said in a way of a greeting.

Scott’s fidgeting became more nervous. “I know”, the younger Alpha said. He took in Derek’s disheveled state and winced a little; as if he knew exactly what his next words would do to an Alpha who’d just recently claimed a mate.

“Derek… Stiles was… taken.”

Derek froze. It was hard to breathe and he panted, his vision blurring for a second before it focused through blazing red eyes.

The roar he let out shook the whole building.

 


	10. Taken

Stiles groaned, opening bleary eyes. His head was pounding and he felt a bit nauseous. His hands were chained to a chair in the corniest of ways, such as the setting itself – an abandoned warehouse, dark, except of the single light, pointed straight at his face. He squinted his eyes. Someone snorted.

“Well, well. The sleeping beauty woke up. Does the light hurt your eyes, deputy Stlinski?”

There was a chorus of ugly laughing. Someone grabbed his hair violently and pulled back, revealing his neck.

“Or is it Hale now?”, the same guy sneered.

Stiles’ breath quickened. They knew Derek. Were they after him? Was he only the bait? Derek would so bite it; he would be furious and completely irrational and…

“Don’t worry about the mutt right now, deputy. Worry about yourself. Because…you see, we cannot let an animal administering the law…”

Fuck. It was just now that it registered, that revealing his neck had revealed his Mating bite. And they thought it had also gotten him turned. So it wasn’t just a personal vendetta against Derek.

It was a vendetta against all weres.

* * *

 

“Tracy, location!”, the sheriff barked.

“I can’t… his phone is…”, she tried.

“You gotta be able to trace it, even if it’s turned off!”, Jordan insisted.

“It’s broken, J. That’s what I’m trying to say. They know what they’re doing”, she explained.

“Cameras, how about cameras!? Do we have any visual from where he was last seen?”, their boss offered, hands threading nervously through his hair.

“I’m sorry sheriff, it was a blind area”, Tracy looked close to tears.

“I should have been with him, I should have…”, Parish began.

“Not now, Jordan. Please”, the sheriff sighed, running a hand down his face. And then his eyes focused on his deputy. “We may not have tech-resources. But maybe we have something better…”

As if just on cue the door burst open. Lydia tripped a little, for once wearing sneakers instead of her usual heels. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were big and round.

The sheriff swayed, paling like a ghost.

“Please don’t scream, I’m begging you…”

She shook her head. “It’s not that…”, she began. Her eyes met Jordan’s and he felt as if she bit back a ‘not yet’. She focused back on the sheriff. “I felt it yesterday and just took the first flight. It was too vague and I don’t… I keep calling him but he doesn’t answer…”

She looked back at Jordan.

“Where’s Derek? And Scott?”

* * *

 

Hunters. They were fucking hunters.

The stench of wolfsbane was strong enough to mask even his mate’s scent and Derek was furious. Without their sense of smell they were reduced to something closer to prey, rather than the predators that they were. He felt helpless, going in circles through town and through the woods, searching blindly for a clue.

And time was not on their side.

* * *

 

When Stiles next came to, his left eye was swollen shut and he guessed he had a fractured rib; he tried to breathe carefully and prayed that his lung wasn’t punctured. His lip was split and he tasted blood.

“Looks like you got no healing factor. Maybe you should face your Alpha and question him about it”, the hunter taunted.

More laughing echoed in the warehouse.

“So go on. Call him”, the man got closer and sneered, “ _Howl_.”

Stiles spat in his face.

It only got him another punch.

* * *

 

They were driving seemingly aimlessly. Lydia looked like she was far away, in another world all of her own. She gave sporadic directions and then kept _listening_. It was close to an hour when Jordan couldn’t take it anymore and had to ask.

“What do you feel? Like, is he… I mean do you feel a need to…”

“No”, she said firmly. “So far, no. But… everything is so blurry around him. It’s been like that since…”, her eyes widened.

“Since what? Lydia?”

* * *

 

Scott tried to pick up a trace, a scent, anything. Everything felt in vain and he kept going in circles, feeling lost.

Feeling alone.

Wait.

“Derek…?”, he called.

No one answered him. The darkness mocked him with its silence.

“Derek!”, he yelled, feeling a cold chill run down his spine.

Nothing.

He roared, a deep, authorative sound. It wasn’t searching for a fellow wolf. It was summoning his Pack. 

* * *

 

Being woken up with a bucket of cold water wasn’t exactly something new (because yep, _that_ was his life) but it was still highly unpleasant. If they thought that would be the thing that would break him they were sorely mistaken. He would never tell them…

“Look what we caught, deputy.”

There was a groan and someone was thrown into the room, badly beaten and heavily tied with a rope. It was obvious that rope was drenched in wolfsbane since that someone was…

“Derek…”, Stiles choked.

“See? Big bad wolf, tied down like a prey”, the hunter laughed.

“Then why don’t you untie him, you piece of…”, Stiles snarled, only to be slapped across the face. His head spun and he spat out some more blood.

“Turns out there was no need to actually keep you alive, deputy. I should have just killed you from the start. Fucking mutt”, the hunter spat out.

The sound that echoed in the vast room this time was different. It was eerie and completely out of place. Because the quiet chuckles came from the bloody and beaten deputy, chained to a chair.

“That would have been a wise decision”, Stiles lifted his head, smiling bloodily. His yellow eyes slowly turned stark black. “But a wrong animal.”

The chains fell on the floor, useless.

Stiles grabbed the chair and smashed it in the hunter’s head.

* * *

 

Derek lay on the floor, drifting in and out of consciousness. The wolfsbane on the ropes was too much and he couldn’t fight it. He was vaguely aware of gunshots and screams. Stiles’ voice wasn’t among them. He saw… he thought he saw black eyes, the same black eyes he had… seen before… long ago.

_Wrong animal…_

Was the Japanese demon back? Had it ever really left? Or was it a part of Stiles? Was that what Stiles didn’t want to discuss?

Derek turned his head slowly and painfully and tried to focus his eyes.

Stiles had his hand around someone’s neck and Derek recognized the hunters’ leader; his feet were dangling above the ground and he was choking in Stiles’ grip. When the deputy spoke his voice was different.

“You seemed to be under the impression that I needed a weapon, or someone else’s help to finish you”, he grinned bloodily. “You’ll learn that’s not quite true.”

“Stiles…”, Derek rasped.

His mate turned to look at him. Black faded, like someone blew a candle, and wide whiskey brown stared at him. He was startled... but there was something more there, something else Derek couldn’t exactly name.

The Sheriff Department chose that moment to break in, guns pointed till they realized there was no one else left to aim at. Scott and the pack followed, ready to pounce… at no one. The sheriff looked around before his gaze stopped on his own son.

Stiles dropped the last remaining hunter and slumped on the ground.


	11. New York

Stiles sat on the couch, feet up on it and legs bent, forehead resting on his knees. He was covered with a blanket and for the first time since Derek got back the deputy actually looked small.

The sheriff had been out of his mind with worry. Calming him down took much more time than actually giving their statements to another deputy. Derek, free of the wolfsbane ropes and with a clear head, confirmed his mate’s words and made it perfectly clear that they were both victims of the hunters. _How_ Stiles had managed to get himself out of his chains was left unexplained.

Parish had given them both a long look before he offered to give them a ride home; none of them was in a state to drive.

_“Will you be alright?”, he had asked by the front door._

_Derek nodded, offering his hand for a handshake. “Thanks, Jordan.”_

_Parish shook his hand and nodded. “Call if you need anything.”_

Derek entered the living room and Stiles looked up at him, smiling gratefully (if a bit forcefully) at the cup of herbal tea the wolf handed him. Derek sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch facing his mate and patiently waiting for him to say anything.

When Stiles finally started talking it wasn’t what Derek expected. It was more.

“When I was in the FBI I had a partner. His name was Michael. We hit it off from the first day they paired us. He was funny and smart and a sarcastic little shit just like me”, Stiles smiled. Then his smile faded.

“Like most people out of this fucking town, Mike was completely human and blissfully unaware of the supernatural. Worked for me, that was precisely the reason I got the hell outta Beacon Hills and its madness. Unfortunately… the madness followed me.”

He swallowed dryly with that faraway look that said he was miles away, months ago.

“They called about a hostage situation. A man held two children captive in an old abandoned apartment building. As you can imagine, when it’s a matter of children we weren’t the only ones who took the case. By the time we got there, there were at least ten more cars down in front of the building. But there was no one out and no sound from the inside. It should have rung a bell. After everything I had seen here. But it didn’t, not until it was too late.”

Stiles’ hands holding the cup shook so badly that the tea threatened to spill over the rim. Derek gently took the mug. Stiles didn’t even notice.

“Like the more impulsive between the two of us, Mike ran inside first. I called after him, told him to wait, to watch out. He didn’t hear. When I followed him, slower and following the protocol… it was a massacre.”

Stiles’ voice trembled and his eyes were full of pain.

“All of the other agents were dead, scattered all over the place, the halls, the stairs. I called for Mike. All I heard was a muffled yell. Back then I thought it was probably my name and he was calling back for me. Now I know he was probably trying to warn me but his mouth was covered… by the freak, who had gotten him, the very same one we’d been called about.”

Stiles’ hands now fisted his blanket. His whole body shook.

“There were no kids. No hostages until we got there. And until that freak got his hands on Mike, gun pointed at his head.”

He was breathing hard but he kept on talking.

“He said… he said I was the reason he had staged all that. That all the rest of the agents shouldn’t have answered the call, shouldn’t have come… shouldn’t have died. He only wanted me. He said he wanted my power.”

Stiles laughed. But it was a dark and painful laugh and his eyes were full of tears.

“Funny thing is that back then I didn’t even realize I had any power to begin with. Deaton had once spoken of a spark but that had been a long time ago and lots of things happened to me since then and… I thought I had lost it, if it was even something worth mentioning. But, apparently… I was much stronger than I thought.”

Stiles took a deep breath.

“I understood that… when that freak blew up Mike’s head. And something inside me snapped. I don’t know if it was grief, or rage, or fucking fear for myself. But when Mike slumped down on the floor I felt something switching inside me, something came to the surface. Something…dark and ugly.”

Stiles’ fingers, holding the blanket, twitched.

“When they found me later there wasn’t much left of that freak. They told me I couldn’t have possibly done that by myself and asked if Mike had been alive so we had both taken that man down. I told them what they wanted to hear. The ballistics showed I hadn’t used my own service weapon at all and they didn’t find my fingerprints on any of the other weapons. They had to check, you see. I was the only one left alive, claiming to have no clear memory of what exactly had happened with the criminal. The shrink… the shrink told me later that the mind had a self-defense mode; to forget certain traumatic memories. They said that was what happened to me. They called it a PTSD and were more than okay to sign when I applied for an unpaid leave.”

Stiles slowly leaned back till his back rested on the back of the couch, feet still up on the edge of the seat.

“When I got back the first thing I did was go to Deaton. He said nothing was wrong with me and I wasn’t being possessed again. He said it was just my magic, acting to defend me. And maybe avenge a fallen comrade. According to him there is nothing disturbing in my… spark or whatever it is. But I have another theory.”

Stiles looked up, straight into his mate eyes.

“The Nogitsune’s gone. But some of its darkness remained. This is what I don’t want to face. This is what I still cannot accept. That darkness is a part of me and my spark. And it’s a part of me that scares even me.”

He snorted bitterly. “So when you told me you didn’t want to _taint_ me… it felt like a slap, like mockery, even though you couldn’t have known. You see, Derek, I’m already tainted. I’m as tainted as they come. My spark, my life, my very core…”

“Stop.”

Stiles shut his mouth abruptly, startled by Derek’s words. It wasn’t even a yell or a real command, yet it wasn’t quite a plea either. They stared at each other in the silence that followed, one of them unsure where they stood in their relationship now that it was all revealed and the other searching in his mate’s eyes.

“This isn’t a dealbreaker for me”, Derek said. “There were no conditions to begin with. You’re my mate, Stiles. I love you with all of your darkness and light. And I’m with you no matter what.”

Stiles’ face twisted. The dam broke and tears fell down his cheeks but he didn’t try to stop them. When Derek reached out and gathered him in his arms and they fell on the floor by the couch, he didn’t try to fight it or escape that warm embrace. He curled into his mate and allowed himself that long-needed relief.


	12. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to a more hopeful development.  
> Now, while I'm grateful for reviews please keep any comments containing the word "fluffy" to yourself. This story is a part of me I have worked on for a while. It is not shallow or 'fluffy' to me. I hope you understand what I'm getting at.

They were having breakfast when Derek spoke up, mostly to his scrambled eggs.

“Do you have any plans for today?”

Stiles hummed, nodding. “I’m having lunch with Lydia.”

When the silence stretched he looked up, straight into wide hazel eyes.

“What’s with that look?”, he scoffed.

Derek shrugged. “I’m just surprised she’s still in town. You said she practices in New York.”

Stiles’ tense posture relaxed and he smirked, rolling his eyes a bit.

“Yeah, well, turns out she found a reason to stay for a while.”

“Is that reason called Jordan?”, Derek asked innocently, batting his long eyelashes.

Stiles chuckled but nodded.

“You know what they say about old flames”, he said.

“Yeah. I do”, Derek said meaningfully.

 ** _You_** _were my old flame_.

Stiles’ smile widened and he stood up to leave his dish in the sink, dropping a kiss on Derek’s messy hair.

“What about you, big guy? Any plans for today?”

“I’m going to translate for a while. And then maybe I’ll tend to a… side project.”

“Now you got me curious”, Stiles perked up.

Derek snorted. “You were born curious.”

“ _Anyway_. I wanna know. Tell me.”

Derek smirked. “How about diner? Around 5 pm? And then I’ll tell you some more.”

“You got it.”

* * *

 

“Derek. I don’t see anything.”

“That’s kind of the point of a surprise.”

“I’ll trip”, Stiles tried.

He could _feel_ Derek rolling his eyes, his hands firmly over Stiles’ eyes as he walked behind him. “I’ll catch you.”

“Are we there yet?”

“You’re such a brat!”

“But…”

Derek suddenly stopped walking and his hands fell away.

“Open your eyes.”

Stiles did, blinking slowly. And then his eyes widened and he covered his mouth with his hands, letting out a short surprised laugh. He turned back to his smug mate.

“You. Made a greenhouse on the rooftop?”, he asked, completely stunned. Derek nodded. “How-? Why? _When_?”

Derek chuckled, shrugging a bit. “You were working. The therapist said I should pick up a hobby. I chose gardening. So that we can have real food. And… because you inspired me.”

Stiles frowned for a second before realization struck him. “The farmers market.”

Derek nodded again. “I went back there and asked what to do. Some of them didn’t want to share their experience. Some offered tidbits of information. Some told me exactly what google didn’t cover”, Derek smiled proudly. “The salad we ate tonight? Every vegetable in it is from this greenhouse.”

Stiles gaped, trying to formulate words and feeling completely dumbstruck.

“Derek, I… I’m so proud of you.”

Derek smiled, the way he did only for Stiles – warmly and privately.

“You made this happen.”

Stiles shook his head. “Derek, no, babe”, the endearment slipped without thought but none of them flinched or looked uncomfortable anymore. “You did this all by yourself. It’s all _your_ hard work – the therapy, getting a job, building from a scratch…”

Derek took his hands in his own. “None of this would have been possible without you in my life. Accept it as the fact that it is.”

Stiles hid his smile in Derek’s chest.

They stayed on the rooftop for a while.

* * *

 

“Lydia’s going back to New York”, Stiles said casually, biting into his burrito. Derek looked at it contemplatively, as if wondering if he should start raising chickens too. As proud as Stiles genuinely was with his mate he knew he’d have to draw a line somewhere.

“And I’m going with her”, he added.

Derek’s head snapped up, eyes wide. And scared.

Stiles huffed, dropping the rest of his lunch on the napkin.

“Please don’t look at me as if I’m leaving you. I thought we were over that.”

Derek had the decency to look down at the table; his hands crumbled the wrapping of his own food and he had that constipated look he still sometimes got when it was especially hard for him to formulate words. Stiles decided to spare him.

“I just need to take care of some stuff. I’m going to permanently resign from the FBI.”

Derek’s eyes looked back up, straight into Stiles’, surprised and inquiring. The deputy sighed. But as he looked back at his mate he smiled.

“I have to man up and cut some ties if I want to really move on. And for that… you inspire me too.”

Derek didn’t beam or puff out his chest like every corny guide on Alpha behavior said he would. But his ears were pink and Stiles was positive that he hid a small smile by taking a _long_ sip of coffee.

* * *

 

“I’m kind of surprised that she actually leaves; after she initially stayed back for a while, for _him_ ”, Derek confided that night when they were curled together in bed.

It spoke a lot to the depth of their relationship that Stiles understood him without further questions. Lydia and Jordan were both close to him, each in their own way.

“I think they’re going to try something long-distanced”, Stiles sighed. “Maybe it would evolve with time and they’ll figure out that they need something more solid. Or maybe they’ll smolder away. I think they’re not ready for something more, _now_. None of them would give up their job, their life. Not now. But eventually… maybe.”

Derek didn’t say anything more. His arms tightened their hold around Stiles as if grateful for their second chance; and the fact that _they_ didn’t smolder away.

* * *

 

Stiles sat in the car, gathering his courage. His hands gripping the steering wheel turned white from the effort. He huffed out a breath he hadn’t realized he had held back.

_“I have to man up and cut some ties if I want to really move on…”_

If he could accept Allison, he had to accept this too.

He opened the door and stepped out of the rental SUV.

The grass was green and well-kept but the rows of headstones made the hollowness inside of him grow; all of those had served their country. Soldiers, policemen, marines…

FBI agents.

Like Michael Emmanuel Ferraz.

Stiles found the name easily even though he had had the courage to only visit once. He kneeled down to leave the flowers.

“It’s been a while, buddy.”

* * *

 

The flight had been long and tiring. Or maybe it was the whole experience that had drained him. But when he stepped into the loft all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and not leave it for at least a week.

“Derek?”, he called, dropping his backpack by the door.

There was no immediate response so he went exploring. The living area was empty and so was the kitchen. But there was an Avengers mug on the counter, contents still steaming hot, and a slice of chocolate cake by it. Emotionally wrung out as he was, Stiles wanted to cry just by the sight of all that.

Strong arms embraced him from behind and Derek tucked his cold nose behind his ear, nuzzling and sniffing.

“Welcome home”, he sighed.

Stiles’ hand crawled above Derek’s and he squeezed gratefully.

“I’m home.” 


	13. Basic needs

Stiles threw the broken elevator a dirty look and sighed before he began ascending the 134 steps to the loft. He had been twitchy and restless all day, leaving him feeling raw and worn out at the end of the day. To add insult to injury he had stopped by the store to stock up on the things Derek had not yet began growing by himself.

Stiles tried to balance the paper bags full of groceries as best as he could while he unlocked the door. It would be nice if there was another strong person there to help him. Oh, wait. There was. And he was probably lounging on the couch, the lazy ba-…

Someone attacked him by surprise, making him drop the bags and pressing him up against the wall where he was promptly… sniffed. Stiles exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Sourwolf, we talked about this. And we agreed that there would be no sniff-attacks now that we…”

Derek _whined_ , pressing himself closer.

Uh. Hold on.

“Derek?”

A pair of ruby-red eyes looked up at him, half-lidded with desire and need.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“You’re in heat”, Stiles blurted, earning himself a warning growl. “Okay, fine, in a rut.”

Derek whined again, seemingly trying to merge with Stiles, pressing closer and closer, looking both distressed and annoyed by the layers of clothes between them. Stiles didn’t blame him. He knew how basic needs took charge rather than Derek having full control. And as a strong, capable and responsible mate, he knew what he had to do.

He would take care of his Alpha.

“It’s okay, Sourwolf. We can handle this together. You led me through mine, I’ll get you through yours. You can let go, I’m here for you”, he smiled down at the fidgeting werewolf, gently caressing his face.

It did not calm Derek in the slightest.

Instead, he stepped back and started pacing their living room like a caged animal. He looked half-mad, arms crossed and rubbing his shoulders or down by his body, hands in tight fists, or fingers weaving nervously through his messy hair.

“Der?”, Stiles frowned.

“You don’t get it”, he mumbled.

“So tell me”, Stiles pushed. The bags of groceries were left on the counter as his eyes followed his distressed mate pacing around the loft.

“I can’t, I can’t… let go…no…”, Derek whispered, still not meeting his eyes.   

Stiles’ frown deepened as he was hit with a hunch. He focused on the shift and called out his wolf eyes. And his sense of smell.

It wasn’t just lust and desire. Derek reeked of fear.

Shit.

“We should have talked about that in advance, huh?”, Stiles winced. Then he stepped closer and caught the fidgeting wolf. He rubbed his shoulders gently and spoke calmly. “Come, take a seat.”

Derek made a half-motion to shake his head and pull back but Stiles knew exactly when and how much to push. Like pushing his mate to sit on the couch and crouch down in his feet.

“Hey. Look at me”, Stiles said.

It took a moment but Derek complied, looking down through dark lashes. Stiles smiled at him with what he hoped was reassurance.

“We can do this, Der. You can let go, I promise it’s oka-…”

“I’ll be completely out of it, Stiles! I almost already am, what’s to say when I’m with you, _in_ you, I can-I can’t… control myself and I cannot, ever, _never_ , hurt you…”

“You won’t, Derek…”, Stiles tried, voice still calm, hands tightly holding the wolf’s thighs, preventing him from bolting up and pacing some more.

“You’re a human, I can’t-you can’t…”

“I’m not; not completely”, Stiles smirked. “Look at me, Der. Look into my eyes.”

When Derek looked down again Stiles knew what he saw – blazing yellow. And a calm, composed mate.

“Now listen to me and listen good. We’re ready for this. I can handle it, _because_ I’m yours and you gave me the power to be strong enough. But _you_ ’re also _mine_ and I’ve been preparing for this without even knowing. Guess some wolf instincts told me to stock up on protein bars, water bottles and non-diary food”, he smirked, nodding at the grocery bags. Then his face became serious again. “Understand that I don’t take this lightly. I know that it scares you, not having full control over your own self. I know that you hate being vulnerable. But I need you to trust me to take care of you and lead you through this, safe and sound. I believe I can. I’m sure I can. Just let me.”

Derek’s eyes were suspiciously shiny when he nodded. For the sake of the Alpha’s pride Stiles chose to blame this on the fever. He smiled again and opened his arms.

“Come here.”

Derek did, readily. He crawled in Stiles’ arms and they cuddled there on the floor, Stiles’ hands rubbing soothing circles on Derek’s back.

“Now, since that’s your first rut we’re spending together, I need you to talk to me. I need to know some basics, like what exactly do you need in what exact order. Like, do you just need physical contact in the beginning, like that? Or do you need to take this straight to bed? Either way is okay, Der, I just need to know.”

Instead of answering the wolf just buried his face deeper in Stiles’ neck and held his mate tighter.

“Okay”, Stiles smiled. “Got that. It works for now, but you’d have to eventually use words so I’m sure you have everything you need.”

Derek rubbed his nose in Stiles’ neck. “I do… h’v…. ‘verything I need.”

Stiles’ smile widened and he bit his lip, before kissing Derek’s sweaty temple.

“Sap.”

* * *

 

“So is there something you’ve… _knot_ told me about?”, Stiles asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he got more comfortable in the middle of the bed; he had already arranged everything they were going to need close by, this time taking charge as the cool-headed partner.

He expected an eye-roll, or at least a deep sigh. All he got was silence.

Stiles fidgeted.

“Um, Derek?”

The wolf was suddenly very busy organizing the lube Stiles had bought almost as an afterthought. Actually, when had he bought _three_ bottles of it? And why was Derek stacking _all of them_ on the bed?!

“Derek?”, he tried again, sounding quite a bit alarmed.

Derek finally dropped his nervous arranging and looked at Stiles through fever-lidded eyes. He gulped dryly.

“I don’t know”, he admitted on a half-whisper.

“Wha- _How_?!”

“Well, I haven’t… before!”

 _Okay, calm down, Stiles_.

He took a deep breath and eyed all the lube bottles.

“Well, at least we’re prepared”, he laughed breathlessly.

Derek didn’t look so sure. Stiles sighed and pulled his mate above him, kissing his fever-hot lips softly before he smiled reassuringly.

“We’ll be okay, big guy. I promise”, he said, looking at his lover imploringly. When Derek finally nodded Stiles grinned cheekily and said, “Now, lemme see _just how much of a big guy_ you can be.”

The eye-roll that followed reassured Stiles that Derek wasn’t completely lost into the fever.

* * *

 

Stiles panted, turned on his side with Derek firmly behind him; and firmly _inside_ him.

Yep. They were tied together. With no idea for how long.

In fact the wolf was still shaking with the aftershocks, breathing heavily. His arm, thrown around Stiles shook too. Stiles frowned. They’d had sex before, now both in and out of heat, and he knew what Derek looked and felt like right after. This, now, was something else.

“Babe?”, Stiles rasped out, his voice hoarse from _not_ holding anything back. “You okay?”

Derek took a moment to respond, gathering his breath, gathering himself.

“Y-you… know ho-how… every orgasm is good b-but… for a wolf… in a rut… it’sss…. Ten times more… intense”, Derek wheezed.

Stiles’ eyes widened. It was great for him too, thoroughly amazing like every time with Derek but. Whoa. Ten _times_ more intense?! No wonder Derek was shivering so badly.

“’m only… still sane… cuz ‘m with…mate... You...”

It was obvious how Derek fought to get those words out. But it was reassuring that they seemed true and he could obviously still form those thoughts – his brain wasn’t fried from the fever. Or from orgasms ten times stronger than usual, fuck.

“Wait, how did you… I mean, if only I’m keeping you sane as your mate, how did you, well, _survive_ your other ruts?”

“…didn’t…”, Derek mumbled.

“Huh?”, Stiles frowned.

“…first… rut… only mate…”

 _Oh_.

When he’d said he hadn’t knotted before Stiles had thought that Derek could, technically, out of rut and with someone who was not his mate; and it had just so happened that he hadn’t. But it seemed the two things were connected. Maybe a wolf had to find the One before he experienced _everything_ with them and them only.

No fucking wonder Derek had been nervous. And that, _on top_ of having no control and being scared of hurting his partner. To be so open and vulnerable, to have faith that your mate is strong enough for all that - it took all the trust in the world. And for Derek trust was very hard.

He was just beginning to realize how deep their bond actually was. He had Derek in the palm of his hand. Just like Derek had him when Stiles had been in the middle of his heat and Stiles had trusted him with everything that he was.

Feeling reverent and humbled, Stiles took Derek’s hand and lifted it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss in the middle of his palm.

* * *

 

Stiles was blissed out and floating on cloud nine. He had lost count of how many times he had come. Because even in his fevered state Derek was never an egoist in bed and always made sure his mate came first or at least at the same time.

Stiles opened his eyes and looked above him.

Derek’s pace was frantic and his thrusts were getting irregular. His fangs had dropped down and his eyes were literally blazing in the dark. He was in the peak of his fever, on the cusp of his own orgasm but it seemed to be still just out of his reach.

He suddenly flipped them until Stiles was on top and the deputy soon felt why that was – Derek’s knot had begun to swell again.

“Please, please….”, Derek muttered, half-delirious.

Stiles bit his lips, gathering all his remaining strength as he began moving on top of his mate, trying to help Derek reach his own heaven. This one was taking longer than the rest and Derek looked just a few seconds away from slipping into insanity.

“Please…”, he begged incoherently, face sweaty and twisted in almost pain.

Stiles gasped, hit with a sudden inspiration. He grabbed Derek’s hand and pulled till his mate was half-sitting, still thrusting up, still chasing his completion. Stiles focused and felt his own fangs dropping. He looked at Derek, through blazing yellow eyes and smiled. Derek’s breath hitched.

Stiles bit down hard, high on his mate’s neck.

Derek _howled_ , body turning completely stiff for a long moment before he slumped, shaking hard in his mate’s arms. He hid his face in Stile’s neck, half-sobbing from relief, finally relief.

The fever had broken.

* * *

 

It had taken them hours to drift back down and be able to move, at all. Stiles knew from experience that Derek must really want a shower – since their scents were so deeply engraved into each other that no simple rinse could wash it away. Problem was, Derek wasn’t even able to stand on his own.

Stiles filled the tub and dragged the 200 pound slump of a wolf into it, stepping in behind him to gently wash him. He grinned when Derek hummed happily.

“Hey, big guy. Still with me?”

“Yah…”, Derek yawned, leaning back at him and getting more comfortable. His eyes were already closed. He could take a nap, he decided. It sounded very tempting actually and he relaxed even further back in his mate’s arms.

Stiles’ hands suddenly stopped pouring water on Derek’s chest. Long fingers crawled on his pecs and slowly slid lower, a teasing light touch over his abs and then back up to his nipples. It went on for minutes, slow and gentle, never pushing for more. Derek bit his lip, feeling himself really getting into it.

“Are you sleeping?”, Stiles whispered in his ear, lips touching his lobe.

“Mhm”, Derek lied.

“Something isn’t…”, Stiles teased, fingers sliding lower and giving his hard-on a gentle squeeze. “Want me to take care of it?”

“…Not yet”, Derek whispered back.

Stiles chuckled. “Kinky.”

But his fingers kept playing with his nipples and crawling over his abs, now clenching with every small touch as Derek started panting and wiggling in his mate’s embrace, eyes still closed, neck bowed back and head resting on Stiles’ strong shoulder. The teasing touches turned into light scratching; the fingers crawled lower, on Derek’s thighs but never touching his now raging erection. He moaned helplessly.

“Now?”, Stiles asked.

“Now!”, Derek nodded urgently.

A hand wrapped around his cock and pumped, squeezing just tight enough, moving just fast enough, just perfectly tuned to Derek’s needs. The other hand crawled above his heart and gently tweaked a nipple... right as he sucked on Derek’s Mating bite.

Derek’s back bowed above the water, head thrown further back, moans echoing around the bathroom. Some time ago he would have been ashamed of himself, would have held all that back, but not anymore. Not with his mate.

He finally slumped back in Stiles’ tattooed arms, still panting and slowly floating down from his high. His own hand crawled into the water, sloppily reaching to return the favor. Stiles’ fingers intertwined with his and he stopped Derek’s movement.

“No need”, he said.

Derek turned his head to look at him with a raised brow. Stiles’ cheeks were pink.

“Let’s just say that you put on a good show.”

Derek smirked, head resting back on his mate’s shoulder. “Kinky”, he shot back.

Stiles elbowed him gently but soon they were both laughing.


	14. Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N. 1 - I'm aware that a lot of you will just "aww" at this chapter (as well as the final one) and condemn it as "fluffy" again but that's how I saw this story happening and I do believe Stiles and Derek both deserve a happy end.  
> A.N. 2 - This chapter was inspired by the works (and one work in particular: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b7/6c/5e/b76c5ecf055974a8871e49a2e989b6e3.jpg) of artist Yehuda Devir. Now, as you will see on his FB page, Mr. Devir is most definitely not gay :D and his wife Maya is such a sweetie ^^ and I’m not saying that Derek is Maya :D (he actually looks a lot more like Yehuda :D ) but… it just came to me and I had to write it :)

They were having their evening run discussing the Saturday BBQ when Stiles’ phone rang with Scott’s obnoxious ringtone. The deputy slowed down and stopped, pulling out the device and barely managing a ‘yeah?’, before Scott’s slightly hysterical voice screamed,

“It’s happening!!! We-Malia-now!!”

“Scott, wait, what-!”

“BABY!!!!”

“Oh my God”, Stiles’ knees felt week. “We’ll be right there, buddy, right there! We’re on our way!”

 He turned around to face his mate. “Get the car, we’re gonna be uncles!”

* * *

 

“Isn’t she perfect?”, Scott cooed with a scratchy voice and tears in his puppy eyes.

The small bundle in his arms fussed and made a very displeased face. Malia smiled tiredly, holding out her hands.

“Give her here”, she said softly, taking the baby extra carefully from Scott’s arms and shushing her gently.

It was a whole new Malia and Stiles was both dumbstruck and humbled. Her pregnancy hadn’t prepared them for that softer side since she had been even more temperamental during those nine months. Truth to be told Scott himself had been scared for his life a few times.

Melinda Caroline McCall had finally been born after five hours of screaming and more threats to their lives (Scott’s in particular since the rest of them were wise enough to wait outside) and a few close calls with fangs and claws. The baby had a dark tuft of hair and a pair of blue eyes...same as her grandfather’s. Stiles wondered if they would remain blue as she grew up or if they’d change colors like it happened with most babies.

Even in her mom’s arms Mel didn’t calm down immediately, making it known that she would be just as temperamental as her mother.

“Just a little over 7 lbs and already a drama queen”, Stiles chuckled.

“I blame her Hale side”, Scott shot back while Malia glared.

Unnoticed by the rest of them Derek snapped a picture with his phone and smiled down at it. He opened his g-mail and attached the file, adding the recipient’s email in the last moment before hitting send. There was a single sentence in the message.

_“Congratulations, Grandpa”_

* * *

 

Stiles walked up and down the aisle seemingly aimlessly. His gaze kept flicking between all the different baby products, unable to choose.

“We should have just asked”, he whined. “I mean look at that! There’s so much choice! Should we buy a mobile? A baby monitor? A plushie… or not, it would be unpractical, it gets dirty easily and it would always be in her mouth when she starts teething. When do they start teething by the way? A year?”

“Try six months”, Derek answered.

“See! Wait, how do you know that?”, Stiles frowned.

“I have a baby sister?”, Derek shot back with his best “duh” voice.

“Fine! You win! I should have just let you…”, Stiles turned around, finally facing his mate. And a cart full of baby stuff. “…choose”, he finished weakly.

Derek grinned.

“I did.”

* * *

 

“I can’t believe it’s already been two months!”, Scott exclaimed, proudly pushing the stroller with a miraculously sleeping Melinda through the park. Malia had stayed back home to catch up on some much needed sleep.

“Yeah, dude, look at you – a responsible dad”, Stiles smiled, patting his friend on the back. “It suits you.”

Scott puffed out his chest. It would have been cute and impressive if Mel hadn’t chosen that exact time to start fussing again. Scott’s eyes widened and the ‘responsible dad’ was reduced to a panicked young man who had no idea what the baby wanted.

“Okay, okay, calm down”, he tried. Mel let out a loud wail. “Woah, okay! Okay, food, do you want food?”

He pulled out a bottle and offered it to the wailing infant, only to be blatantly rejected.

“A toy? Here’s a toy!”, Scott produced a rattle from the baby bag and waved it madly in front of Mel’s face. With no luck. His face fell and his head hung dejectedly.

“It’s the nappy, isn’t it?”, he groaned.

Mel wailed. Scott sighed.

“I’ll go change her and will be right back. You guys can wait here and then we’ll go grab some coffee?”

“Sure, man”, Stiles smiled.

Scott hurried back to his car and they sat down on a bench to wait.

“Can you believe this? The brat you found in the woods when he was 16 is now a dad”, Stiles said slowly.

“Well, I’m dating the other brat from the woods so…”, Derek huffed.

Stiles rolled his eyes and elbowed him good-naturedly. “I meant how much our lives have changed since then. I bet you didn’t imagine this back then?”

Silence.

Stiles looked at his mate next to him.

Derek’s eyes were fixed on the bench next to them where a young mother was gently rocking her baby to sleep. There was something soft and… contemplative in that hazel gaze. Something that looked a lot like…

Want.

There was a sound like a shutter and they both looked up at Scott’s grinning face; the younger Alpha was just lowering his phone, Mel finally content in her stroller next to him.

“Ready for that coffee?”, Scott asked.

* * *

 

Later, because Scott was still a brat and because Derek didn’t have a Facebook and wouldn’t see it and snarl at him, the picture was posted on Scott’s Facebook. Stiles and Derek sat on a bench next to a young mother; Derek looked hypnotized by the baby and Stiles had that soft fond smile on his face. The title said “I think he’s ready”.

* * *

 

Stiles spent quite some time staring at that picture and wondering if he should bring it up with Derek. The time would never be perfect and Stiles was still scared by some deep and dark dimensions of his spark and Derek was still going through therapy and they were both still healing from everything that town had done to them but…

But they were in a good place now, with their lives and their relationship. They both had jobs and they could afford raising a child. The town was finally peaceful again, the kind of place where a kid should grow up, the kind of place Stiles _had_ grown up, instead of the hellhole it’d been for a while.

Were they gonna be good parents? Were they ready for such a huge responsibility? Was Derek ready to face the idea of family with all of his painful memories that word held for him?

Stiles kept staring at the picture with no answers to all of these questions.

* * *

 

The answer came a few days later in the most unconventional way.

They stood in the foyer of the building where Stiles had found his mate when he had gotten back from work. They were both silent and…

“Um. Derek. Why are we staring at the broken elevator?”

“…I’m thinking of fixing it. Fixing the whole building actually. We’ll rent out the apartments and…”, Derek’s voice faded.

“And?”, Stiles pushed.

“And maybe… look for something more… family-friendly?”

Stiles’ brows shot up and his heart made a funny little blip.

“Are we having that talk now? In front of the broken lift?”

As expected Derek backed off immediately. He ran a hand down his face and looked all but ready to bolt.

“It was just a suggestion.”

Stiles caught his hand quickly, preventing him to run away from that talk.

“Are you asking me if I want kids, Der?”, he asked carefully.

It took a long moment before he received his answer.

“…and if I am?”, Derek asked quietly.

“Pardon?”, Stiles leaned in, as if to hear better. Badly hiding a smile.

“Do you?”, Derek asked, more clearly, turning around to face his mate.

Stiles smiled, wide and sincere. “Yeah, big guy. With you, I do.”


	15. Epilogue

Derek stood up and looked at the beds of tomatoes he had just tended to with a small smile. He was sweaty and tired but he was content with his hard work. The lettuce was turning up as well and the cucumbers would be ready to harvest in a few days…

…if Talia let them grow over a few inches.

“Tal, come on, they’re too small yet! Let them grow a bit more”, he chastised the little girl.

His daughter turned around with puffed up cheeks like a chipmunk and a mischievous smile. It made him reminiscent of another Talia, who had the same spark in her eyes. His mother and her grand-child had never met and weren’t blood-related since Talia Jr. was adopted; but Derek couldn’t help but see the similarities.

Or maybe it was because they were here, where the old Hale house had once stood. Derek had bought back the land from the state. He remembered it in its glorious days, full of laugher and warmth; he remembered it as a charred shell in his darkest days. It was now bustling with life once again, since Derek had turned the land into a vast vegetable garden. It had taken a lot of effort, since the soil in the woods wasn’t particularly good for vegetables but Derek had obtained the knowledge how to _make_ it good and then proceeded to do just so.

Now the place was back to life, green and fresh and vibrant, a source of food and fun for his children.

He stepped closer to his daughter and ruffled her brown curls with a fond smile.

“Go wash your hands, we’ll be going.”

“But Daaaad…”, she whined, making a face.

Luckily, he had just the thing to say to cheer her up.

“We’ll go home to wash up and change and then we’ll pick up Daddy from work and have dinner with Grandpa.”

“Yaay!”, she yelled, jumping up and down with joy.

They washed up as best as they could on the small outdoor sink and prepared to leave: Talia picked up her toys, scattered around, and Derek picked up and put away his tools. Then he opened the backdoor to their SUV, helping her put on her seatbelt and went to retrieve James from his bouncer under one of the nearby trees. The baby had dosed off and fussed a little while Derek pulled him out of the rocking seat and secured him into his baby car seat. Derek pulled out a pacifier and gave it to his son, knowing it would be enough to well, pacify him.

The decision to adopt had been relatively easy. Even the bureaucracy, filling up countless of forms, documents and statements and the visits from the social workers were all things they had been prepared for. When they were finally given their first child, they had been prepared with a name for the 2yo girl – Talia Claudia Hale-Stilinski.

What Derek hadn’t been prepared for was arguing with his husband for their son’s name a few years later. 

_“Bruce?”_

_“Banner or Wayne?”_

_“Is that a yes?!”_

_“You’re a brat. Also, no.”_

_“Anthony.”_

_“I’m not naming my kid after DC or Marvel heroes.”_

_“Uh! Fine! Then how about… Anakin!”_

_“No! ... But maybe Luke.”_

_“Yeah, but Luke Hale-Stilinski…”_

_“Because Anakin Hale-Stilinski sounded_ so _much better.”_

_“Okay, point. Kirk?”_

_“James?”_

_“Well, I meant Captain Kirk rather than Kirk Hammett (and don’t think that I didn’t follow where that suggestion came from!) but, okay. James. James Vernon Hale-Stilinski.”_

_“…Yeah.”_

Derek smiled at the memory, looking at the rearview mirror at a sleeping James and Talia who was coloring a drawing for Daddy.

Their house was close to the garden, on the outskirts of the Preserve and they were soon back home. Derek parked the car and went to help the kids out of their special seats. Talia ran inside to wash up by herself while Derek gave James a quick bath and changed him into a more presentable outfit with no sticky stains.

“Tal? You ready?”, Derek yelled up the stairs.

“Yeah!”, she yelled back, running down…

…dressed in an Iron Man shirt and a pink tutu, along with rainbow leggings. Derek sighed. If he wasn’t sure she had been adopted he would swear she and Stiles were blood-related. He shook his head fondly and led the way back to the car.

“Let’s go get Daddy.”

* * *

 

Derek stepped into the station with James in a sling and Talia holding his hand, giving the impression of a well-mannered child instead of the little hellion that she was. There was a new deputy on the reception desk and Derek was secretly pleased because while everyone else knew him he could now ask the newbie about,

“Sheriff Stilinski please?”

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink and her lashes lowering flirtatiously as her scent turned sweet with arousal. Derek made an effort not to make a face; he knew he looked good but that was all for his mate’s eyes, thank you very much.

“I-I’ll call for him”, she stuttered. “And you are?”

Derek grinned. “His husband.”

“O-oh”, she paled, before turning deep red and hastily reaching for the phone.

Stiles saved her, stepping out of the main room, accompanied by yells of “Daddy, Daddy!” He kneeled down to catch Talia, who threw herself at him, dropping any pretense of manners.

“Hey, monkey! Looking good”, he grinned at her outfit.

“I dressed myself, Daddy!”, she said proudly.

“And it shows”, Derek muttered.

Stiles looked up with a mischievous smile. “You’re just jealous that she has her own style.”

Derek nodded, mock-agreeing. “That must be it.”

Stiles hugged their daughter and stood up, smiling wide and holding her in his arms as he stepped closer to Derek to peck him on the lips and to drop another kiss on James’ head.

“Witaj nieznajomy*. Are you tormenting my deputies again?”, he whispered.

“Not at all”, Derek answered with a smile of his own.

“Hmm”, Stiles didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll just go change and we can leave”, he said, leaving Talia back on the ground.

It took him a minute to come back from the locker room, dressed in one of Derek’s Henleys that was just a little too tight on the shoulders and a pair of jeans that made the new deputy stare and Derek want to growl at her. Stiles seemed to have caught that because he smirked and muttered ‘ _behave’_ as he picked up Talia and wished the obnoxious newbie a good night.

Noah was waiting for them on the porch and Talia ran into his waiting arms as soon as she was free from the seatbelt. Stiles took some more time to pick up James and Derek picked up the baby bag and the bouncer, knowing their son would fall asleep after dinner. Noah greeted the three of them too, giving them one-armed hugs as his other arm was hugging his older grandchild.

It was later that night, when they had gotten back in their own house and put the kids to sleep when Stiles pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses and curled next to his mate on the couch. He gave his husband another short sweet kiss before they both took a sip of the dark red liquid.

“Well?”, Derek asked.

“Hmm?”, Stiles frowned slightly.

His mate smirked. “You only pull out the dry red when there’s something you want to convince me about.”

Stiles bit his lip. But he was smiling sheepishly when he pulled out a folder and gave it to Derek. And it was something he knew well.

It was an adoption form.

“I was thinking… we talked about three kids and… I was thinking about… Alice Erin Hale-Stilinski.”

There was so much hope in his voice that Derek fell in love all over again.

And, they seemed to be in agreement when it came to girls’ names.

He smiled.

“I love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *means "Hello, stranger" in Polish. Nieznajomy is also a great song by Tulia, go check it out. I really thought there should be a tribute to Stiles’ Polish roots in this story. That, and Poland is a fellow Slavic country I feel kind of close :)


End file.
